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FKONTISPIECE. 


The little show-woman thoroughly believed in her show.'’ 


Page 



In Black and Gold 

A 

STORY OF TWIN DRAGONS 



JULIA McNAIR WRIGHT 


AUTHOR OF “bricks FROM BABEL,” “MR. STANDFAST 
JOURNEY,” “RASMUS,” “GRAHAME’S LADDIE,” 
“the early church in BRITAIN,” 

ETC., ETC. 



’S 






BOSTON 

Congregational S'unliagsS'cfjool antJ Ipublisljtng ^ocietg 


CONGREGATIONAL HOUSE 


Copyright, 1887, by 

Congregational S. S. and Publishing Society. 


Electrotyped 

By C. J, Peters & Son, Boston. 


PREFACE. 


Virgil tells us of Twin Dragons which with 
flaming eyes and tongues that played like 
forked lightnings and wreathing coils that 
lashed the sea to foam, came on the ill-fated 
plains of Ilium, and destroyed Laocoon and 
his sons. The fable is for this day and this 
land. Twin Dragons, those of the gaming- 
table and alcohol, are destroying by thousands 
young men and old. Against the drink Dragon 
already strong war is waged, but its Twin, hid- 
ing more closely its snares and its victims, has 
challenged less the attack of those who do bat- 
tle against all wrongs. In this little book we 
set forth these two deadly Dragons in their 
daily work among us. If any shall be warned 
more sedulously to guard, warn, defend, and 
avenge the youth of our land, the story will 
have well performed its mission. 


Julia McNair Wright. 








CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. A Human Hive 7 

II. The Queen Bee 34 

III. Nets at the Head of Every Street . . 49 

IV. A Struggle for Whim 70 

V. A Hymn Seller 83 

VI. The Cobbler’s Story 106 

VII. A Wax-Work Show 130 

VIII. Miss Harrison 144 

IX. Whim’s Inheritance 155 

X. Going with Father 181 

XL Doro Shares ' with Whim 192 

XII. The Green Table 21 1 

XIII. The Famous Cremona 229 

XIV. He Fell Among Thieves 250 

XV. The Wages of Sin 271 

XVI. The Fugitive 293 

XVII. Goldilocks 314 

XVIII. The Returned Prodigal 334 

XIX. Doro Inherits a Fortune 351 

XX. When All Things Suffer Change ... 367 

• XXL A First Violin 385 

S 

'v 


I 


> « 




•I 


4 


V 




IN BLACK AND GOLD; 


THE STORY OF TWIN DRAGONS. 


CHAPTER I. 


A HUMAN HIVE. 



‘IME : eight o’clock the last day of May, 


187-. Place : 97 Andover street, Boston ; 
city and number correct, street name fictitious 
for reasons. Ninety-seven was one of those 
human hives packed from cellar to attic with 
people struggling for a subsistence — a mass 
without cohesion, driven into 97 by winds 
of adverse fate, likely to be swept out again 
by the same fate, expressed in the breath 
of an irate landlord ; meanwhile, each and all 
pursuing their ends without any reference to 
the others. The cellar ignored even the ex- 
istence of the attic ; the first floor was uncon- 
scious of the personality of the second floor ; 
the second floor never heeded whether a hearse 
or a baker’s cart called for the third floor ; the 


7 


8 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


fourth floor toiled up all its stairs, wheezed and 
panted, and nobody knew whether it went bur- 
dened or empty-handed. Ninety-seven was a 
jostling world in miniature. The cellar of 
97 was a cobbler’s shop ; the upper panes 
of the window and the transom of the 
door were about the level of the walk, the 
lower portions of each received light and cus- 
tomers respectively by means of a little stone 
well. The shop was ‘^twelve by twelve.” A 
shelf ran all the way around it, on which were 
trophies of the worker’s art or industry. Boots 
and shoes with heel-taps, side-taps, half-soles, 
heels, toes, vamps, glorious in new leather 
against the old material ; rips valiantly sewed 
up with conspicuous waxed end ; boot-legs re- 
footed ; now and then a new pair of shoes ; 
wooden pegs, stitches, nails, rims of “ armor- 
plates,” — these made up the variety in unity of 
the shelf. 

The shop was lit by one large, flaring gas- 
jet from the centre of the ceiling ; it shone 
on the cobbler, a big man with bent shoul- 
ders, well developed arms and hands, fine head, 
insignificant legs, a great and dirty apron of 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


9 


ticking — said cobbler sitting on a stool, ham- 
mering away at a shoe-sole on a last between 
his knees. By his side was a tray with knives, 
awls, wax, waxed-ends, needles, bristles, but- 
tons, eyelets, pegs, scissors, endless small para- 
phernalia. A side of leather stood in a roll in 
a corner. Some smaller rolls of morocco lay 
on a cutting-counter; the floor was covered 
with fragments of old and new leather. The 
door was open, but the smell of leather con- 
quered the fresh air, drove it out, pursued it 
even to the sidewalk, gloating over its victory. 
The gas-light flared over the salient points of 
bright steel, new skins, and the shining bald- 
ness on top the cobbler’s head, the broadly 
exhibited new patches and pieces on the shelf, 
and these were set in strong relief by the black 
chippings, the ancient grime of floor and apron, 
the old shoes, the wax, the dust, and the black- 
ened walls. 

The two windows above the cobbler’s shop 
were uncurtained, and broadly lit to attract the 
passers-by. The side entrance was liberally 
placarded in red, blue, and yellow; a great 
white poster shone under each window. In 


lO 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


the well lit lobby stood a fat, old woman ; 
behind her an iron stand for canes and umbrel- 
las ; beside her, well riveted to the wall, an 
iron money-box, with a slit in the lid and a 
strong padlock on the side. Over this dame’s 
arm hung a string of leather checks. She 
stood well planted on a pair of big feet in low 
buskins ; her figure seemed modelled on a 
feather-bed, with a rope tied around the centre, 
ready for carrying it away. The upper part of 
her dress was a loose light calico jacket, with 
a silk kerchief carelessly knotted about her 
throat, to save collar and conceal sundry 
deficiencies in the way of hooks and buttons ; 
the lower portion of her attire was a reckless 
multiplicity of petticoats, of different colors and 
lengths — the upper one shortest — so that a 
black merino, a gray flannel, ' a yellow cloth, 
and finally a light striped calico were revealed, 
with the prodigality in this line of a New Haven 
fish-wife. The old woman’s hair was black and 
beautifully waved, her dark eyes were set deep 
in their sockets, she had a perpetual rosy bloom, 
and all her teeth were gone but the two lower 
front ones, which were large and long, and 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


I 


which she had a habit of shooting out con- 
spicuously over her upper lip, when she said 
anything particularly impressive. A hard- 
working life, wherein she had never taken any 
care of herself, had not destroyed in this good 
creature the traces of more than usual early 
beauty. 

She kept her eyes steadily fixed on the steps 
of the lobby; each passer-by was inspected. 
When one passed oblivious of the posters de- 
claring great attractions within in the form of 
a “Wax-work show,” the old woman looked 
wrathful and worried ; when the pedestrian, on 
the contrary, ascended the steps, the old woman 
greeted him with a wide smile, took his money, 
gave him his change, dropped her booty in the 
iron box, relieved him of his cane, which she 
checked, and pointed him to the door at the 
side, where was “his money’s worth.” The old 
woman was not idle. Between seven and nine 
she took in considerable money. The show was 
popular. After nine, new-comers were semi- 
occasional, so the old woman took a seat close 
to her box and umbrellas, put a pair of iron- 
bowed spectacles on her Greek nose, and set 
herself to read the daily paper. 


12 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Meanwhile all the flies which had walked into 
the parlor of this portly old spider were in the 
large room with the well lit windows. The walls 
of this room were covered to a height of six feet 
with black or red cloth in loose folds. Set in 
strong relief against this, a succession of very 
gorgeous, very silent, very motionless, very star- 
ing and curious persons, between whom and 
the world received by the old woman was 
drawn a thick, faded green rope. On second 
glance all these staring wall-flowers were seen 
to be wax. The quaintest, most original figure 
in the room, the one which really attracted this 
nightly audience, was not wax ; she was a very 
small, snugly made creature, in an ancient gown 
of cheap blue silk, short and tight in the waist 
and scant in the skirt. This gown was rather 
liberally trimmed with cheap Spanish lace ; the 
little girl’s slender arms were bare to the elbow, 
and she carried very gracefully a gilt wand 
longer than she was tall. Her voice was soft, 
sweet, distinct, like the low notes of a well 
played flute ; her eyes were large, gray, ear- 
nest, pathetic ; her pretty little mouth was also 
pathetic, as if she had seen more trouble than 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


13 


joy thus far in her life journey. But the chief 
point about this little show-woman was her hair. 
It was her hair — that and her voice — that 
brought the crowd. Her hair was golden and 
glittering, it was brushed back from her face, 
and held by a blue ribbon bound about her 
head, — a snood, the Scotch would call it, — and 
from that it fell in a waving, gleaming cloud, 
even, fine and silky, down to the hem of her 
dress, and that concealed her ankles. The 
eyes of the visitors were fixed rather on this 
admirable little person than on the show- 
figures. She, on her part, was either peace- 
fully oblivious of this attention, or so habituated 
to it that, it was not a matter of any conse- 
quence ; she was all intent on her wax. 

She had the highest respect for these staring 
figures. They were her friends and patrons ; 
she believed in them fully ; they were to her liv- 
ing and instinct with mighty histories ; she was 
grateful to them ; they paid her rent, and fed 
her, and made a future possible to her, and 
they helped her bear the burden of daily life. 
‘‘ Familiarity breeds contempt,” and “ No man 
is a hero to his valet,” — these are old adages, 


14 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


and as untrue as old, in this case. Familiarity 
of years only made the little show-mistress a 
firmer believer in her show, and the figures 
that she decorated, dressed, and reconstructed 
were heroic in the heroism or fame of their 
dead prototypes. How many rounds she made 
nightly of the room, beginning with Cato the 
Censor, in his toga and sandals, and passing 
around a hundred transformations of the human 
figure, through Attila, the Scourge of God, 
and the Emperor Charlemagne, Pope Gregory 
the Great, Luther and Ignatius Loyola, stand- 
ing peaceably side by side ; Mary of Scots and 
Queen Elizabeth, Marie Antoinette, Ferdinand 
and Isabella, Christopher Columbus and George 
Washington, Robespierre, William the Silent, 
George the Third, Joan the Maid, John Quincy 
Adams, and Napoleon Bonaparte, Mrs. Fry, 
Madame Roland, and others, and others, and 
others, to frivolous Maria Louisa, smiling se- 
rene at Josephine, and standing last in the cir- 
cuit, and so next to Cato the Censor, who 
would have been unlimited in his condemnation 
of her had he chanced to meet her, the low- 
necked, bejewelled, simpering, and shallow- 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


15 


hearted, as he made his pilgrimage in the 
flesh ! 

The golden-haired show-woman advertised 
an instructive show," “a show that would 
confer a large knowledge of history and be 
part of a liberal education." She conscien- 
tiously endeavored to fulfil her engagement to 
the public. She studied her subjects carefully ; 
hardly a day but this minute being was mounted 
on a chair at the public library, investigating 
encyclopaedias or histories for new items about 
her staring family. Tome after ‘tome of vol- 
umes on costume she searched when she 
pursued her frequent renovation of the show’s 
wardrobe. This honest purpose had its re- 
ward ; there was something so sincere and 
simple about the little maid and her way that 
dozens of decent people came to her exhibi- 
tions, and listened placidly to her remarks, 
and did not allow themselves even to think 
that the eyes, whether blue or black, were 
dreadfully glassy ; that the paint of the com- 
plexions was very unscrupulously laid on, and 
that it became wearisome at last to see even 
wax indulging in a perennial and ghastly sim- 


1 6 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

per. The show-woman’s eyes were full of liv- 
ing sympathy and emotion ; her color went 
and came in pink and pale ; she never sim- 
pered, seldom smiled, was always thoroughly 
in earnest with her work. “ There are the 
little princes of the Tower who were mur- 
dered by their wicked uncle, Richard, Duke of 
Gloucester. It seems such a pity that their 
poor mother, the queen, had to give up her 
children to the care of the man that hated them. 
I always hope the poor little lads did not wake 
up to know that they were being murdered. 
Some people since have doubted whether this 
dreadful story were quite true, but there is no 
doubt of it, for lately the step at the foot of the 
Tower stairs has been taken up, and the bones 
of the little king and his brother found there, 
so there is no question about it, and there need 
never have been, for human nature is capable of 
being turned to any evil for the sake of a little 
power or money. This next figure is General 
Tom Thumb, who certainly was a very small and 
famous dwarf, and exhibited in all the courts 
and chief cities of Europe. Queen Victoria 
was very much pleased with him when he was 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


17 

shown to her at her palace. For my part, I 
think a giant would be much better worth 
looking at ; I don’t admire dwarfs myself, and 
their hearts and minds seem sometimes as little 
as their bodies — but not always. I never 
thought it was quite right for them, when Tom 
Thumb first went out for a show, to pretend that 
he was five or six years older than he really 
was. Truth should always be spoken. Here is 
Christopher Columbus, standing beside Queen 
Isabella of Castile, his patroness. It does not 
seem to me that Isabella was half so good or 
great a woman as many people consider her. 
She was very ungrateful to Columbus, listened 
to his enemies, broke her promises to him, and 
had him sent home in irons, when he, more 
than all kings and councillors, had enriched the 
Spanish nation. Columbus died, aged seventy, 
some say sixty, poor and unhappy, and broken 
down by ill-treament. His last voyage was to 
try and find a way through to China by the 
Gulf of Mexico, but you know there is no 
passage through from the Gulf to the Pacific. 
In those days geography had to be made, and 
people had to ^find out things for themselves 


8 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


which are now plain as day on the maps. As 
you turn to look at Isabella, it is only honest to 
tell you that I think this wax is too nice-looking 
for her. I think she should h^ve smaller eyes, 
near together, a long sharp nose, and a more 
cruel mouth, for I am sure she was a cruel hard 
woman. You know how terribly she treated the 
Moors and the Jews. I wonder she could sleep 
nights, driving out hundreds of mothers with 
little babies in their arms, old people, sick peo- 
ple, robbed of all they had, poor, frightened, 
knowing nowhere to go. I am sure it is a pity 
to be a queen if one is to be left to act like that. 
It would be hard to die with so much on your 
conscience. And then to think of burning up 
people alive for their religion ! I like Isabella so 
little that I would turn her around with her face 
to the wall, only that would not be fair to you, 
who pay your money to see all the figures.” 

Turn her round if you like,” shouted a jolly 
voice from the “ admiring crowd.” “ We can 
stand it, if you can ! ” 

Thus along the line, from figure to figure, 
went the little show-woman, and told earnestly 
of the sins of Henry the Eighth, the crowned 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


19 


Bluebeard, and unblushingly praised Elizabeth, 
whom she admired for being big and masculine 
and selfish and stubborn and sensible, in all 
points but the last quite the opposite of her 
own little self. And she was pathetic over 
Lady Jane Grey, and made an effort which 
would have been honorable to certain historians 
to do justice to James the First, and did nobly 
by Oliver Cromwell, and was clapped when she 
told the story of Lincoln, and was hissed by a 
stout son of Erin when she paid a pretty tribute 
to Victoria. To be hissed was new in her 
experience; the flute voice faltered a little in 
its music, and tears came into her eyes, where- 
upon the disturber of the peace came forward, 
cursed himself for a blockhead, and asked her 
pardon heartily. The crowd changed several 
times during the evening, and the little mistress 
of ceremonies went her rounds three times. 
Her voice did not weary, nor did she get flushed 
nor faint, which spoke well for her endurance 
and the goodness of the constitution done up in 
so small a parcel. 

While this was going on above, the inside 
door of the cobbler’s shop opened, and a boy 


20 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


twisted himself in at a small space, a side of 
sole leather lying on the floor and preventing 
free ingress. He had a book in his hand and a 
scowl on his countenance ; seemed a little un- 
certain, too, of his reception. “ Hillo, there. 
Whim ! I thought you were studying.” 

Thus the cobbler ; to which Whim whined : 
“She wants me to be studying all the time.” 

“ Why not } School will close in three weeks, 
and there is much for you to learn. Buckle to 
it, my lad.” 

“But what’s the use.?” protested Whim. 
“ I’m going to be a musician. What do I need 
to know more than my violin .? ” 

“A deal more. Suppose you get to be a 
famous violinist. You will need to know how 
to write a handsome hand and get up a well 
spelled, well expressed, gentlemanly letter when 
you make or decline engagements. You must 
understand arithmetic, or how will you keep 
accounts .? If you are a fool in history, and 
think that Alexander the Great was born in 
England, you’ll get laughed at. You must 
. know geography if you’re going to run over the 
world playing your violin. You wouldn’t make 


A HUMAN- HIVE. 


2 


much if you were guilty of rushing off to some 
little charcoal-burning village in the Hartz 
region, expecting paying audiences. You must 
know German and Italian and French, too, if 
you are going to travel Europe. What book is 
that in your hand ” 

“ It’s German,” said Whim. “ She has bar- 
gained with the east attic for lessons for me. ' 
It’s paid for in washing and mending, or some 
such way.” 

“ Humph ! And, with her going that length, 
you are not willing even to study ! Sit down 
here by me at once, and work.” Whim sat 
down cross-legged beside the cobbler, under the 
gas, and began to write out exercises, pursuing 
his work aloud: “ Wie geht es, Frau.^* — How 
are you, madame ^ ” 

“ Hold up ! ” said the cobbler ; “you can say : 
‘Wie geht es, Knabe,’ speaking familiarly to a 
lad of your own age, or a servant ; but if you 
are to be respectful, or address your betters, you 
can not say, ‘ Wie geht es, Frau } ’ ” 

“ What can I say ? ” demanded Whim. 

“ Look it up ; I won’t tell you. In one ear 
and out the other. You’ll value what you work 


22 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


for. I know ; I’ve been a student in my day. 
Not so lazy a one as you, either.” 

“ Then, you liked it? ” 

“ I didn’t study for love, I see that. If I had, 
I would have kept at it. I studied for what 
study would bring ; — it brought nothing, and I 
quit after I had reached a certain point. A 
certain point, I say. I should not like to be an 
ignoramus, even cobbling shoes. Study ; you’ll 
be glad of every item you learn.” 

“Ho, there, Jonas! what are you doing.?” 
A pair of legs were coming down the well 
which enclosed Jonas’ front door. The voice 
seemed to be carried by the legs. 

“Pegging away,” replied Jonas, to a waist- 
coat, which had dipped into sight. 

“And how are you, Jonas.?” this from a 
round, red, and dishevelled head which had suc- 
ceeded in getting into view. 

“ Pretty well pegged out ; it’s late,” quoth 
Jonas, and, stretching a long, strong arm up to 
his shelf, he took a pair of shoes, half-soled and 
heeled, and flung them at his interlocutor, who 
caught them as it were a base-ball. 

“ Well, you don’t want to trust me for ’em, 
Jonas .? ” 


A HiTMAN HIVE, 


23 


“ Too poor an opinion of human nature to 
trust anybody.” 

“ Not even the price of a pair* of heel- 
taps } ” 

“ Anybody can pay for my heel-taps that ain’t 
too familiar with heel-taps down below at the 
saloon.” 

“ Right you are, Jonas ; and here’s your dollar 
and a half. I guess the brogans are worth it. 
Who have you here ^ Gone to school-teaching } 
— setting up ragged-school like ” 

“ Ragged-school yourself ! ” said Whim, 
wrathfully ; “a little more and I’ll throw this 
book at your head.” 

‘‘ No offence,” said the owner of the mended 
shoes. 

‘'It’s little Doro’s brother,” said Jonas, 
“ minding his book not so well as he ought, for 
such a faithful little sister.” 

“I do my German well — Rebbler says so,” 
said Whim. 

“ No doubt. Rebbler’s disposition is such 
that he’d ‘play a part to tear a cat in,’ if you 
tried any fooling with him. What you need, 
young man, is a good stiff master over you ; 


24 


IN BLACK AND COLD. 


but you haven’t one, and more’s the pity! 
Have you learned that lesson ? ” 

“Yes,” said Whim, stretching his arms, “and 
you need not think so poorly of me, Jonas. I 
write a beautiful hand, and I’m the best speller 
in the school, and I am head in arithmetic, and 
after this term, she says, I may only study 
music and languages — I hate languages.” 

“You’ve got to know ’em; so be off to bed 
with you.” 

Ten o’clock. Room above the shop empty, 
dark, locked. In the lobby, the small show- 
woman carefully letting the contents of the 
iron box into a kerchief spread on the lap of 
the old woman. 

“I suppose you’re tired, Maggie.” 

“ Well, I’ve been reading the paper, so I 
didn’t mind. The paper has a long piece about 
the priests demanding to have parabolical 
schools. Now, I don’t think they ought to 
have parabolical schools, seeing public schools 
is good for all who goes to ’em. It’s most 
dreadful hot, and I know I sha’n’t sleep a wink. 
If you’ll take my advice, you’ll go to bed, and 
I’ll do up your hair for you at onst.” 


A HUMAN H/VE. 


25 


“ ril have my hair done in a minute. But I 
must sit up. What is the use of talking, 
Maggie } I always sit up ! ” 

“To ruinate and break down your health.” 

“ I sleep with my head on the table or on a 
chair.” 

“ Much sleep that is,” grumbled Maggie, as 
the little girl went off with the money in the 
kerchief. Then Maggie returned to her paper, 
over the columns of which she slowly travelled in 
search of further remarks on parabolical schools. 

Again the inner door of the shop opened, and 
this time the intruder was the golden-haired 
exhibitor of wax-works. 

“ Here’s the money, Jonas. Not so much as 
last night. Am I very much behind now } ” 
“Well, not so very much,” said Jonas, count- 
ing the money ; “ but you want to get ahead, 
you see.” 

“Oh, Jonas! you’ll never, never know how 
much I want to get ahead, to lay up.” Such a 
look of care on the child-face I 

“You shouldn’t be so determined to do all by 
yourself ; make Whim put his shoulder to the 
wheel.” 


26 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ But what is there Whim can do ? ” asked 
Doro. 

^‘What is there Whim can do?” said Jonas 
to Doro. “ He can draw a crowd by music. 
He can play that old fiddle of his to make one 
laugh or cry. Set him to playing an hour each 
evening. Every show needs music, and yours 
lacks it, while the best in the city is free to 
you.” 

“ But Whim needs all his time to study. He 
must get on.” 

Much he needs it. He hates study. You 
set him at his books and he idles and shirks. 
Let him play for an hour, and he will do as 
much study in two hours after as now in three. 
He is afraid enough of his masters not to go 
unprepared. You do Whim a damage by not 
requiring his help. That is the way that 
women spoil their men folks.” 

“ I think I must set him at it to-morrow. 
To-morrow will be his birthday.” 

‘‘ Better the day, the better the deed,” 
growled old Jonas, pounding at a peg. The 
girl went back to the first floor to a small sit- 
ting-room, where Maggie, who had finished her 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


27 


paper, stood ready to brush her hair. This 
shining hair was Maggie’s pride and glory. 

“ I hate hot weather,” said Maggie, while 
she brushed vigorously. “ I wish it was winter 
again.” 

“ All winter you were hating the cold and 
wishing for summer.” 

‘‘ What’s the use of summer in the city ! — no 
grass or flowers ! ” 

But when we went into the country for a 
week, you hated the fields, and wanted to come 
straight back to the city.” 

** I was never out of Boston city ten days in 
my life,” said Maggie, “and I never mean to 
be. I know the city is going to be very un- 
healthy. That boy is tearing about all the time. 
He is sure to die of sunstroke. And I’ve 
always told you your father would catch dis- 
eases — the kind of places he goes to. You 
may reckon on his dying of cholera. And you 
won’t hold out, this rate ; you look miserable 
peaked.” 

“ Oh, Maggie ! I feel sure we shall all keep 
as well as usual.” 

“What’s the use of keeping well when you’ve 


28 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


nothing to live on ? The show’s going down; 
every one’s seen it. We shall be turned out of 
house and home before long.” 

“ I make sure I can keep the rent paid, 
Maggie.” 

“No such great good if you can. It’s the 
worst house I ever saw : kitchen dark, cellar 
wet, rooms hot — unfit for a dog. There, your 
hair’s done ; and, as I can’t entertain you. I’m 
going to bed. But I know I won’t sleep a 
wink ; I never do.” 

Doro lit a student’s-lamp, turned out the gas, 
and sat down to read the Bible ; after a time 
her golden head bowed low, found a pillow on- 
the sacred pages, and she slept — possibly for 
some time. She was roused by a step for 
which she was always listening, whose approach 
she never failed to hear. The man who came 
in might have been one of the wax figures 
animated. His prominent black eyes had a 
glassy stare ; his black hair, shining with 
pomade, was parted in the middle and arranged 
in careful curls ; his complexion, olive and red, 
might have been painted ; his features were 
regular and expressionless ; his dress careful. 


A Hl/AIAN HIVE. 


29 


Doro looked at him narrowly ; she knew the 
signs : his eyes were blood-shot, his lips 
tremulous, his hand unsteady. 

“ Father, will you have something Shall I 
make you coffee } ” 

“No. I don’t want any thing. How were 
the receipts to-day } ” 

“Not so good.” 

“ Not so good ! Always falling off. That is 
bad. No doubt, you are neglectful ; — you don’t 
please the public, you don’t apply your mind to 
it. You don’t understand the business. Girls 
never do.” 

“ Shall I get you some iced lemonade, 
‘father ? ” 

“ No ! why do you worry me so ? Still, you 
took in something. Where is the money } Go 
bring it to me.” 

“ It is all paid out, father.” 

“Paid out at this time of night 

“ There is always some one to take the land- 
lord’s money.” 

“ Let him wait for it ; other people do.” 

“ But we can not afford to be turned in the 
street. Wax must be treated more carefully 


30 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


than people, you know. Wax folks can not 
stand heat or cold, or wet or sun, or handling. 
We must make sure of shelter for them.” 

‘^But it is always this way — money always 
paid out. I never see it. It don’t go all for 
rent.” 

Sometimes it is coal, sometimes gas and 
water-rates ; sometimes a barrel of flour, or the 
meat-bill,” said this child-woman, who, accused 
of knowing nothing about business, had never- 
theless out-generalled this man for three years, 
keeping him fed and clothed, and him and his 
from the sheriff or the poor-house. Mr. Granby 
took out a good kerchief to wipe his face, and 
a handful of chips fell on the floor. We do not 
mean that he had supped on Saratoga potatoes 
and brought a few home in his pocket inadver- 
tently. The chips were thin slips of ivory. 
Doro, perhaps, did not know what they were 
called technically. She named them “ ruin,” 
and saw in them the shame and degradation of 
her father, the heart-break of her dead mother, 
the unnatural burden of her own life, the lion 
in the way of Whim, the wolf ever at the door. 
She stooped to pick up the bits of bone. 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


31 


I never have any luck,” said Granby, look- 
ing at them. 

“Throw them all away, father, and let us 
attend to business.” 

“ I came near a fortune to-night ! ” he cried 
eagerly; “just one card! Within an ace of 
riches. To-morrow night I ” 

Doro lit a small lamp. “You’ll go to bed 
now, father.” 

“What are you always watching and order- 
ing me for ” 

“ Your room is all ready ; you are very tired.” 

“ Why do you always sit up, spying on me } 
Why not Whim } ” 

“Whim is sleepy. Shall I carry your light, 
father ^ ” 

“ But I never see Whim. He is a boy — he 
would understand. Why don’t you keep Whim 
up, waiting for me } ” 

Doro shuddered. Heaven forbid that Whim 
should understand. 

“Whim would help me — he is sharp — he 
would take an interest.” 

“ No, father,” said Doro, firmly. “ Whim i^ 
not to understand, or hear, or take an interest. 
That would be his ruin.” 


32 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ Isn’t a father a fit guide for his son ? ” cried 
Granby, fretfully. 

“No — not when the father drinks and gam- 
bles,” said Doro, sternly. “ Come ! ” 

He followed her, shuffling and whimpering. 
When he lost at play he solaced himself with a 
decoction of poisons which he called port wine, 
and which reduced him to imbecility. Doro, 
seeing him safe to his room, considered that 
while she might be striving to loose him from 
the folds of the drink dragon, the gaming dragon 
would wind closer than ever ; and if in him 
some virtue had been spared by the fangs of 
the gambling demon, the drink demon would 
set therein his fatal tooth. The relations be- 
tween this father and child were abnormal and 
terrible. He had no loving pride in her, she 
had no tender reverence for him. To him the 
girl was an embodied and accusing conscience. 
Whether she spoke or was silent, whether the 
soft, sorrowful eyes looked at him or away from 
him, it was the same, — she was the challenge of 
conscience against a life of iniquity. And on 
her part she could see in him only an embodi- 
ment of enormous crimes — a man who had 


A HUMAN HIVE. 


33 


destroyed her mother’s happiness and life, 
beset her brother’s path with danger, preyed 
upon society as a vampire, feared not God nor 
regarded man. There was nothing in him to 
respect, and filial love had been strangled at its 
birth, while yet the girl strove to live in the 
exercise of filial duty. The best and most hon- 
ored of fathers could not have received more 
devoted attention to his wants. Common sense 
and common honesty forced her to prevent his 
gambling away all her earnings, and so render- 
ing the entire family paupers, while the trades- 
men who supplied them were cheated of their 
dues ; but no one of the family received as 
many comforts out of those warnings as did its 
undeserving and nominal head. Hope is natu- 
ral to humanity at every stage of life, but it 
especially inheres in youth. . Doro was always 
hoping that her father would turn from the 
error of his ways. But of late, instead of grow- 
ing better, matters were growing worse, for, 
from entirely ignoring Whim, his father had 
begun to pay a fatal attention to him. Doro 
felt this was a question not merely of happi- 
ness, credit, or morals, but of her brother’s soul, 
its saving or its loss. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE QUEEN BEE. 

TT was early morning in the hive, No. 97, and 
^ the little Queen Bee was among the first 
astir. The faithful grumbler, Maggie, came to 
comb that gleaming hair, Doro’s chief capital, 
which she could not manage for herself. “ I 
was up yesterday afternoon beyond Back Bay,” 
quoth Maggie, “and I see a little ten-cent 
show there — *Two Circassian Beauties,’ and 
I thought I’d go in as the picter was- of two 
girls with hair dragging behind their heels. I 
told ’em I was in the show line, and went in 
free. Saw ! I see in a minute, plain as could 
be, it wasn’t natural — tied on ! How folks do 
cheat the public ! But there ! the public de- 
serves nothing better; few shows does so well 
by ’em as ours. Here’s another hot day. Wish 
it would rain.” 

“When it rained three days last week, you 
wished it would not rain again all summer.” 

“ Well, to-day I want rain, and, of course, it’s 


34 


THE QUEEN BEE. 


35 


dry to vex me. When I want it still, there’s an 
east wind ; when I want a wind, — say ironing- 
days, — it’s dead calm.” 

“ Don’t you think that wicked talk } God 
sends weather as it seems best to him, and 
God is above considering what you would like 
and sending the opposite just to vex you.” 

“I know one thing — I sha’nt do up a shirt a 
day this hot weather for your father, and I mean 
to tell him so.” 

“ I’ll make the washing very small otherwise, 
Maggie.” 

Oh, yes ! you spare for him to spend ! I 
won’t stand it.” 

“ It is Whim’s birthday, Maggie,” said Doro, 
to change the subject. “We must make it 
pleasant.” 

“Then, my dear, do it by feasting him. All 
boys cares for is what they puts in their mouths. 
Feed ’em if you love ’em.” 

“I was thinking of buying a birthday cake, 
Maggie.” 

“Do, my dear. Get it at Lipp’s. Lipp 
makes the most perfec’ly superfluous cake 
ever I ate in my life.” 


36 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Having spoken two words for herself and one 
for Whim, Maggie went down to get breakfast. 
Doro opened the door of a little room off her 
own. A brown, burly boy was asleep in a cot. 
His arms were flung up over his head ; his 
bare, bronzed throat was smooth and round ; 
his strong chest rose and fell with his deep 
breathing ; the moisture of profound sleep 
dampened his brown curls, and lay a healthful 
dew over his broad forehead and full red 
mouth. This was Doro’s idol, her heart’s de- 
light, — her present, her future, her all. She 
went up to the bed, and touched with her 
small soft finger the deep dimple in his chin. 

Whim opened his eyes. 

Many happy birthdays to you. Whim,” said 
this little mother. Whim took her kiss as a 
matter of course. 

‘^To-day I shall make arrangements for you 
at the Conservatory, Whim, to enter in Sep- 
tember, and you will work hard at your lan- 
guages till then, and end the school year 
standing well.” 

“ Tm always working hard,” said Whim, with 
conviction. 


THE QUEEN BEE, 


37 


“ And after this I shall need you to play for 
me an hour each evening to bring people into 
the show. We are failing.” 

*‘Now you talk. I’ll bring in more than the 
wax work.” 

‘‘ And I have a present for you, Whim — a 
very valuable present. Before I give it to you, 
you must promise to use it very seldom, and not 
carry it from the house, and not let — any one 

— know of it — that might — sell it.” 
“Savvey,” said Whim, who had received 

some elements of a street education, of which 
his youthful guardian did not know. “ What is 
the present } Where is it } ” 

“ It is a violin, one of the finest in the world 

— the one our grandfather played on as first 
violin, and left to his brother, who took his 
place as first violin.” 

Whim sprang up in bed, his face glowing, his 
eyes aflame with ancestral instincts. 

“Where is it.? How did you get it, Doro.?” 
“ It was sent to mother, four years ago, when 
her uncle died. She told me to keep it until 
you were old enough to appreciate it — and 
know how to take care of it — for it is all 


33 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

your fortune, Whim. I think you will know 
now.” 

She drew from under the bed, where she had 
put it the previous night, a long green baize 
bag. She untied the baize and showed a 
leather case. She unlocked the case, and took 
out a famous Stradivarius. She handed the 
costly treasure to the boy. He seized it, trem- 
bling. He rested it upon his left shoulder, 
bowed his cheek upon it ; his face glowed with 
ecstasy. His right hand grasped the bow, and 
he drew forth the long sleeping spirit impris- 
oned by the master of Cremona. Doro, sitting 
on the edge of the bed, felt the power of the 
boy genius. 

“ Oh ! why have you kept it from me so 
long..? ” cried Whim. 

“ I did not feel quite sure I should give it to 
you now. It is worth as much as two thousand 
dollars. Our grandfather bought it when he 
had made a fortune as one of the first violinists 
of Europe. That was all he had left when he 
lost his fortune, and all he had to leave when 
he died. It came to our mother, on condition 
that it was to go to any son of hers that inher- 


THE QUEEN BEE. 


39 


ited marked musical taste. If there was none, 
then the violin was to be sold, and the money 
was to come to me. That violin will make 
your fortune. Whim, if you do not lose it, and 
you know you must not use it while you are 
practising.” 

The boy, still sitting up in bed, drew forth 
soft notes of exquisite harmony. He seemed 
supremely happy. 

“Play on it to-day, up here, with your door 
locked ; this is your birthday and a festival. 
Then we will lock it away in my closet as be- 
fore. In case of fire, the violin first and then 
the wax.” 

A little while after, Maggie, Whim, and Doro 
were at breakfast. The father never made his 
appearance till noon, when he had breakfast in 
his room, Maggie conveying it to him with a 
forever broken and forever renewed pledge that 
she would never wait on him that way again. 
As soon as he had breakfasted, he hurried to a 
reading-room to examine the papers, to find out 
if any of the Southern lotteries had declared a 
prize, or if some horse on which he had a bet 
had won a race. He never won a bet or got 


40 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


a prize, but with feverish madness he continued 
putting every penny which he won at gambling 
with cards into this other gambling. He was a 
hunter for the bodies and souls of men, and 
like other hunters he had his favorite grounds 
and due knowledge of his prey. From bar- 
room to bar-room, from gilded saloon to gilded 
saloon he went to find men whose blood was 
heated and whose imaginations were kindled 
with strong drink. Those Golden Youth of to- 
day, their pockets lined with the hard earnings 
or fortunate speculations of their fathers, the 
careful savings of their mothers, — youth, am- 
bitious in their idleness to be men of strength, 
to mingle strong drink — betrayed by one 
dragon into the jaws of another, such the facile 
Granby lured to his den. From the time he 
left the house at noon until he returned at 
midnight, — if he came at all, — to find Doro 
patiently sitting up for him, no one of his fam- 
ily saw him ; he was shut up in some gas-lit 
and almost hermetically sealed den, with a man 
at the door to watch for the police intent on 
raiding. When his wife was dying, he, hidden 
in such a den, could not be found. When that 


THE QUEEN BEE. 


41 


wife lay dead, he repaired to his “gambling- 
hell” with supreme indifference to the cold 
corpse he had once professed to love. When 
Whim was supposed to be dying of diphtheria, 
strangers shared Doro’s watch and cares. Well 
does the Spanish journalist write : “Among all 
passions of which mortals are the prey, none 
has a greater number of victims, none is so. 
absolutely incurable, as the passion for play. 
Parrhasius Justus published in the sixteenth 
century a book entitled ‘ Means of Curing the 
Passion for Play,’ and this same author died 
ruined by play ; died in the free bed of a hos- 
pital. In gaming, one loses himself and his all. 
He loses money, health, faith, intelligence, 
credit, shame, — all, absolutely all.” Stephen 
Jong writes: “‘Young man,’ said a gambler to 
me, ‘ preserve always in memory what I say : 
Fifteen years ago I entered for the first time 
into this hell, and I witnessed the suicide of a 
man that lost his life and honor beside this fatal 
table. May that example, which did not cor- 
rect me, suffice for you.’ And this very man 
committed suicide a few minutes after, just as 
that unhappy one whose self-murder he had 


42 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


witnessed fifteen years before ! ” And yet this 
most ghastly passion, which bows under its 
hideous yoke the human soul, is fostered in the 
bosoms of children by parents, teachers, friends. 
Their playthings often nurture it ; they are 
taught its beginning in the family circle ; they 
cross the threshold of the vice very often in 
their own church entertainments and fairs. 
And that twin vice, its deadly brother, is not 
that too nurtured in many a home, — the wine 
with the dessert, the brandy and “good old 
whiskey” in the cooking; the alcohol in so 
many medicines } In this country the great 
and mighty middle class is ground as between 
upper and nether millstones by the drinking 
habits of the two extremes of social life, the 
hideous guzzling in the slums and the bold, 
defiant, deadly drinking in high life. 

My brethren, these things ought not so to be. 

About eleven o’clock, Doro, having devoted 
her usual morning cares to her wax, and know- 
ing that Whim was safe in his room with his 
new treasure, put on a tidy little muslin gown 
and a wide hat, and," sheltered under a little 
gingham umbrella, knocked at the study door 


THE QUEEN BEE. 


43 


of the church which she regularly attended. 
The pastor himself opened the door, and, seeing 
a gentle little child before him, courteously led 
her in, and, noting her face flushed with the 
extreme heat of the day, gave her a seat, a fan, 
and a glass of water, and told her to lay by her 
hat and get cooler. The child’s face seemed 
familiar to him, and he began to take himself 
to task. If you please,” said the silver-sweet 
voice, “ I am Doro, and my brother Whim and 
I come every Sunday to your church and sit in 
the left-hand gallery.” 

“ Yes, yes. I remember your face quite well, 
my child — Doro ; the name is rather a new 
one to me.” He, in fact, was oblivious of the 
surname, ashamed of his ignorance, and striving 
valiantly to conceal it. 

“ Dorothea Granby my name really is ; but I 
suppose it is too long for such a small person, 
and so I am called Doro — Doro Granby. We 
are in wax, you know. Three years ago, very 
nearly, you remember, you came to see my sick 
mother, and buried her.” 

^‘Yes, my dear child, I remember,” said the 
pastor, sadly. He was upbraiding his fate that 


44 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


gave him a cure of nearly a thousand souls, 
with a parish cropping up in spots over all the 
city — no coadjutor thought necessary either 
in pulpit or pastoral work ; six meetings a week 
— two of them required to be great efforts for 
Sabbath ; his door daily besieged by demands 
of all sorts — each week funerals, baptisms, 
bridals ; and with all this shepherding, here 
was one of the lambs of the flock, a faithful and 
gentle little lamb, whom his Master had bidden 
him to feed, and whose name and face he hardly 
knew, and if the lamb were fed, it had been by 
stray nibblings taken of its own accord. If the 
lamb had wandered and been lost, who would 
have missed it.^ This under-shepherd thought 
of his Chief Shepherd who knoweth his sheep 
by name, and he felt that there had been some- 
thing wrong in the conduct of the flock. 

“ My little girl,” he said, sadly, “ I should 
have visited you many times before this.” 

Doro did not know that pastors were ex- 
pected to visit the people. She was an humble 
little person ; she found no fault. 

“Oh, sir, I did not expect it. You have so 
much to do ! and we are in wax, you know. 


THE QUEEN BEE. 


45 


We get on very well, and now, when I needed 
to ask some one to advise me, I came to you.” 

“Very right of you, my dear. I am glad you 
have come.” 

Then this under-shepherd remembered that 
he was not left alone in ministering to the 
lambs. There was the Sabbath-school, the 
nursery of the church ; and how often he had 
publicly praised his Sabbath-school. The teach- 
ers there were understood to be the guides and 
visitors and friends of all the little lambs. He 
felt revived. 

“ You go to our Sunday-school, my dear ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir.” 

“And your teacher visits you at your home, 
I suppose ? ” 

“ Oh, no, sir ; she never comes.” 

The pastor’s face fell again. 

“ And who is your teacher ? ” 

“ Miss Harrison.” 

Well, yes ; the pastor remembered that, with 
all the care exercised, there were some inex- 
perienced, worldly-minded young people who 
had entered into this minor cure of souls. He 
and the superintendent had had little private 


46 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


meetings, wherein they rather wailed out 
echoes from Lamentations than sang selections 
from Canticles. Some of his young people, who 
pursued Mammon six days in the week, tried to 
compound with their consciences by hearing 
the questions from the Lesson Paper for an 
hour on Sunday. Thus Doro had fallen into 
the hands of the Philistines. The good man 
resolved to take vigorous measures with his 
delegate shepherds, if it kept him in the city 
all summer. “And you have come to me for 
advice, my dear child ? ” 

“ About Whim, sir, my brother, the one who 
sits by me in the gallery. There are only us 
two. Whim has very great talent for musk — 
he wants to be a violinist. My grandfather 
and my great-uncle were very famous in Eng- 
land for their playing. I have been trying for 
three years to lay up enough money to start 
Whim, and it is so hard to get ahead. I came to 
ask if there were any schools of music where 
they have scholarships for those who have great 
genius for music, or any schools where they 
would take Whim and let him pay the tuition 
when he is a first violin.” 


THE QUEEN BEE. 


47 


“ I do not know of any, I fear.” 

The child’s face looked so unutterably sad at 
this that the pastor laid his hand paternally on 
her shoulder, saying : But we will see about 
it, my dear child.” 

“ I have only fifty dollars saved up,” she 
faltered. 

“ To save fifty dollars is very well done for a 
little girl like you. I do not see how you did 
so well.” 

‘'By the Lichfield Monument — the Snow- 
drop, you know.” 

“Eh.!^ What Monument.?” This was a 
very puzzling child. 

“ Done in wax, you know.” 

“ Ah, done in wax,” still much mystified. 

“ That and Gulliver.” 

“ Eh .? ” 

“ Our wax work needs so much mending, sir ; 
and as I seemed to have a talent, my mother 
had me taught to work in wax, and I do very 
well. I have made some of my figures, and for 
little things in clear white I have done a great 
many copies of the Snowdrop Monument in 
Lichfield Cathedral, England, where my 


48 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


mother was born, and of Gulliver Bound, which 
I copied, and a store sells them for me, and I 
made the fifty dollars.” 

“ And how old is Whim } ” 

“Thirteen to-day, and I am nearly sixteen.” 

The pastor withdrew his hand from her 
shoulder. “ So old } I took you to be about 
twelve.” 

“ I know I am too small,” said Doro, apolo- 
getically. 


CHAPTER III. 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET. 

T DON’T know as it is a sin to be small,” 
said the pastor. 

“ Maggie says it is sitting up late nights, 
Jonas says it is my hair, and it ought to be cut 
off : — but, then, my hair is part of the show, and 
we take in so little.” 

The excellent parson was decidedly travelling 
in unknown countries in this discourse. He 
had never met a child so hard to understand, 
citizen of a world so very different from his 
own. He returned to known ground. 

Fifty dollars ought to pay for a year’s 
tuition at our Conservatory, I think. I will see 
about it for you. Have you not left it rather 
late ? I think musicians begin earlier than 
that, — thirteen, — but I am not sure.” 

You see, I knew Whim would never study a 
word of any thing else after he got fairly at 
music, and he must know writing and accounts 
49 


50 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


and common things. So I have kept him in 
school, and he is pretty well on ” (proudly). 

Admirable little mother ! 

I see ; and it was very well done and sen- 
sible of you.” 

“And, then, he has begun. I got him a cheap 
violin, — I made that out of King Cophetua and 
the Beggar Maid, — and he had some lessons, 
and he plays beautifully now.” 

“ That is well. I am glad he has his instru- 
ment.” 

“ I think he will need a better one for the 
school. I will try and earn him one. I have 
been thinking of a design of Babes in the 
Wood. If I could get five dollars each — ” 

“I’ll undertake to sell ten for you at that 
price,” said the pastor, eagerly. “The Babes 
in the Wood, by all means.” 

“ And Whim has a violin that is too good for 
him to use now. When he goes out to give 
entertainments it will make his fortune. It 
was our grandfather’s, — all he left us, — a 
Stradivarius, worth as much as two thousand 
dollars.” 


“ What ! are you not mistaken ? 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET 5 I 

“No ; it is marked, and is a famous violin. ” 

“ I must show it and your brother to the 
Director. But, my child, do you know your 
risk in keeping such a treasure in your house 1 
Until yoiir brother is grown it should be put in 
some trust company’s vault, and have an insur- 
ance on it. Suppose it should be burned or 
stolen .? ” 

“ I have thought, sir, sometimes, that I might 
have to raise money on it for Whim’s tuition. 
Perhaps he ought not to live at home. Perhaps 
he should stay at the school.” 

“It seems to me he would be best off in stay- 
ing with such a good wise sister as you are.” 

Doro was silent. 

“ Is your father living ” 

“Yes, sir,” almost inaudibly. 

“ What does he say about these plans } ” 

“ He doesn’t know any thing of them ! ” cried 
Doro, distressed. 

“ Have you hidden your brother’s talent from 
him } ” 

The golden head bent lower and lower — but 
no word. 

“ Is it to get the boy away from his father 


52 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


you think to send him from his home ? ” asked 
the minister. 

Still lower bowed the head under its golden 
crown. 

Is your father unkind to you } ** 

“ Oh, no, sir ! ” 

“ Profane, perhaps ? ” 

“ No, sir ; I never heard him.” 

“ Unhappily, he may have been led away to 
drunkenness ? ” 

“ He drinks some, sir. Not so much as 
many. I have hoped he would stop that. 
But drinking is such a very disgusting vice, sir. 
I hope Whim would not take to it ; he can 
see what that is.” 

“ An infidel ? ” 

“ He never talks about such things before 
any of us.” 

“ Can you not trust me with what is wrong, 
so I may advise you } All that you say is 
closely confidential.” 

“Oh, sir — he is a gambler! He has always 
been.” 

“ And is that incurable ? More so than 
drunkenness ? ” 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET. 53 

“I think so, sir, almost. For if a man 
drinks, he may see how the drink is killing 
him ; but the gambler looks every day to the 
gambling itself to give him back all he has lost, 
and all he wants. The drunkard may say. If I 
drink again I may die. The gambler says, 
‘ One more game and I am safe.’ The drunk- 
ard may have long times when he stops drink- 
ing, and gets room to love people ; but when a 
man gambles, he never stops, for every day he 
expects the lucky throw or card that shall 
make him rich. Perhaps the drinking man 
only thinks of drink while he takes it ; he may 
have some time to think of his danger or of 
other people. But when a man gambles, all the 
time his mind is on the games, and he thinks 
of this and this and this that will make him win. 
The drunkard knows his vice is what is ruin- 
ing him, and the gambler is as sure it is not the 
gaming but only the bad luck in it that has 
hurt him, and always he is sure the luck is just 
going to change. Oh, sir, don’t think I am 
wicked and hate my poor father. I don’t ; but 
he does not care at all for any of us. He broke 
my mother’s heart ; he has lost all we have 


54 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


except the wax, which is so mine he can not sell 
it. He wants Whim to go with him ; he says 
boys bring luck. Because my poor Whim is an 
innocent boy, he means to take him to these 
places that the papers call ‘ a hell,” and eat his 
poor heart out with a fire that, once it is lit in 
the soul, is never quenched.” 

The parson heard astounded. Never had he 
from the pulpit poured out such a philij^pic 
against a vice. Because vice had not touched 
the outmost circle of his serene and godly life 
— he saw it only from afar in other men, whom 
he tried to save, and yet of whose real danger and 
agony the half had not been told him. “ De- 
cidedly, my child,” he said, “ we must save your 
brother. Let us hope that this sad example, 
your words, your tears, your guardianship, will 
instil in the boy’s heart a prejudice against 
gambling, which prejudice will in good time 
grow into a principle. If you see it needful to 
send your brother from his home, it can be 
done ; but so long as he is not in instant dan- 
ger, keep him with yourself. Probably now 
that his love of music is to be gratified by regu- 
lar instructions, and he has his ambition roused. 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET. 55 

he will avoid all that will ruin him in the pro- 
fession he has chosen. And don’t forget that 
God is the great miracle-worker in human 
hearts, and may yet save your father, if you 
pray for him.” 

‘‘I have prayed so much, and so did my 
mother,” said poor Doro, forlornly, “and things 
go just the same.” 

The minister returned to the theme of daily 
needs. 

“ But how do you get on } ” asked the minis- 
ter. “ Does the show bring you in a support ? ” 

“I manage to make it pay rent, fuel, and 
table, and so on, and I do the rest in wax, 
making things. I get clothes and school-books 
and the rest that way.” 

“ And who lives with you and helps you ? ” 

“ Only old Maggie. Mother got her ten 
years ago, when we first set up here in Boston. 
She thinks every thing of me and a good deal of 
Whim. She is always scolding and grumbling, 
but she is so faithful ! She does all the work, 
and takes all the money at the door.” 

“ It is well your father does not take away 
the money.” 


56 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ He began that, and we got in debt, and I 
had to go beg the landlord, and sell my mother’s 
two rings, that I had kept hidden. But now I 
manage ; Jonas, in the basement, keeps all 
accounts with me, and as soon as the show is 
over, I run to him with the money, and he pays 
all the bills, and gives me the receipts — so 
there is never any money for poor father to 
take away. Nobody could get it from Jonas ; 
he is a cobbler, and has arms like a giant’s.” 

“ If he is a good man, he may be a help with 
your brother, in guiding him right.” 

I don’t know as he is very good. He won’t 
go to church. He is honest, very, and kind, 
but dreadful crusty. Still, he does help with 
Whim ; he makes him study. Jonas is very 
sensible. He would be good if he believed in 
the Bible, — but he don’t.” 

More Philistines around this poor little 
maid ! 

“To-morrow, after school is out, I will come 
for your brother and his violin, and will take 
him to the director of the music-school, and see 
what can be done for him. You get ready the 
wax you spoke of, and I will see that it is sold.” 


NE TS AT THE HEAD OF E VER Y STREE T. S7 

(“I’ll teach your Sunday-school teacher that 
she has some duties to you,” he added grimly 
to himself.) 

Doro resumed hat and umbrella, and went 
home comforted. 

“ She’s done it,” cried Whim, bursting into 
the cobbler’s shop. “I’m to be taken up to 
the Conservatory this afternoon, and there’s 
likely to be money enough. She’s got orders 
for a whole lot of ‘ Babes in the Wood,’ done in 
wax.” 

Jonas stopped hammering at an intractable 
boot-sole, and felt strong inward longings to 
hammer at Whim instead. Still, Whim was a 
very pretty boy standing there, healthy, flushed, 
happy, in the early day. If he was selfish, that 
was his natural constitution, unhappily assisted 
by the devotion of Doro. “ In fine,” said the 
cobbler to himself, “ we mortals are all selfish, 
especially when we are young, before the world 
has had a chance to knock some of the ego out 
of us. Age complains of youth that youth is 
selfish, but it is thus that each generation 
avenges the generation that has passed, and 
great Nature keeps even the balances of joy 


58 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


and pain.” Several very strong stitches had 
been taken during this meditation. Then 
Jonas drew the thread tight and looked again at 
Whim. “ See here, my lad, I think you don’t 
know what that little sister of yours is doing 
and giving up for your sake. The little 
creature bears the burdens of age trying to 
make a man of you. What are you going to 
do about it } ” 

“All I can,” quoth Whim; “I’m going to 
study like a house afire, and get to be a first 
violin, and earn a lot of money, and Doro shall 
dress in velvet and ride in a carriage, and do 
nothing but what she likes.” 

“ That’s all very well ; but an acre of castles 
in Spain are not worth as much as a foot of 
solid ground close at hand. What I want to 
know is. What will you do for her now to keep 
her mind easy and make her heart happy .? 
Will you work, will you do as she wants, will 
you keep out of the street and out of bad com- 
pany ” 

“ Of course I will. I shall study from morn- 
ing till night.” 

“ A new broom sweeps clean. For a little 


NETS AT THE HEAD OE EVERY STREET. 59 

you’ll Study your music all day; then you’ll 
begin to tire, and will barely learn your lessons 
and do the required amount. Look you, the 
amount of work required in schools here is not 
to make master genius ; it is only to make a 
pupil so far proficient that the school will not 
be disgraced. Genius is allowed to develop 
itself. You’ll get, say two or three lessons a 
week, and be told to practice two hours a day. 
You’ll think that enough. If you were with 
a master in Germany, I’ll tell you how you’d 
have it : no vacation except a fortnight in mid- 
summer and a few days at Christmas and Eas- 
ter. Early in the morning you’d get a bowl of 
coffee or milk and a crust of bread. Then at 
once your violin, and you’d be locked in an 
attic, and set to work, and be expected to keep 
at it till noon. Then a bowl of soup and 
another bit of bread. In all the day, one hour 
or less for outdoor exercise ; all the afternoon, 
practice. At six, your dinner ; if you’d been 
idle, no dinner but a glass of milk. All the 
evening, practice.” 

“ Why, I’d die ! Die of starvation and work, 
and want of fresh air ! ” 


6o 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Pupils have tried it and have not died — 
they have made masters. This fierce pressure 
has tested all ; the idlers and the cold-hearted 
have fallen out of the way ; the true sons of 
music have remained to conquer. What has 
the easy system of our country produced } 
Where are Our masters } Go to Germany for 
the kings of harmony. Out of such crucible as 
I have shown you have come Beethoven, 
Mozart, Mendelssohn, Handel, Haydn, Hiller, 
Liszt, Bach, Schumann, and many more of the 
illustrious. None of the great Kapellmeisters 
found an easy road to greatness. They made 
their way by solid work ; the more genius they 
had, they worked the more to polish and in- 
form it.” 

I don’t believe my grandfather and uncle 
went it like that.” 

“They did, if they were worth any thing. 
They must have both worked so, for they were 
educated by a master in Germany, I am told. 
There’s no royal way cast up for idlers to take 
to crowns. They have all to make their road 
by breaking stones on it.” 

“I say, Jonas, you’d better write a book 
about working.” 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET 6 1 

Get out of my shop ! ” roared Jonas, furi- 
ously, “or I’ll fling this last at your head!” 

Whim made good his escape, wondering 
what had suddenly gone wrong with Jonas. 
But crowding and jostling our way in this 
world we often tread on one another’s toes 
without knowing it. So Whim had done in 
this instance. 

Whim and his violin were duly exhibited to 
the Director. The violin was pronounced a 
wonderful instrument, and the boy very prom- 
ising. Lessons were to begin in September, 
music and Italian, at the school ; and Whim was 
advised to work at his French and German 
during the summer. Perhaps the aside hints 
about the little golden-headed sister-mother, 
given by the clergyman, interested the Director 
as much as handsome Whim himself. At all 
events, he gave Whim considerable advice. He 
said : — 

“You mean to make this your profession, 
and you should be enthusiastic in it ; enthu- 
siasm carries the day. Fill yourself with 
knowledge of music. Study the history of 
music ; study the lives of musicians. Get a 


62 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


dictionary of music and musicians, and read 
it through; then get the separate lives. None 
of this is dry — these struggles and triumphs 
have been the romance of genius.” 

Perhaps Whim would have forgotten much 
of this in a week, but, in the first flush of his 
zeal, he told it all to Doro, and Doro never 
forgot. When she went to the library to study 
up her wax, she took Whim along and set him 
at the dictionary. Then she drew the proper 
books for him, and took them home, and 
while she made Babes in the Wood with her 
delicate little fingers. Whim sat beside her 
and read the stories of those whose steps he 
claimed to follow. It was pleasant and pa- 
thetic to see this little maid guiding and gov- 
erning the big boy, already talfer than herself 
though three years younger. Whim yielded, 
partly from honest love, and partly from def- 
erence to moral force. Besides, Doro was all 
he had ; his mother was dead, and he was not 
acquainted with his father. Sometimes for 
weeks the two never met. All, however, was 
not easy for Doro in regard to Whim. Whim 
liked to be out in the street, and he made all 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET. 63 

manner of acquaintances, unknown to Doro, 
and these filled her with terror. Then, the 
devil was always laying nets, and Whim was 
always stumbling into them. It seemed to 
Doro that the very kind of nets that were 
most fatal to Whim were laid in his way. It 
is always so. If we have any especial point 
of weakness, that is the point Satan assails. 
Hot temper.? Then, daily we find the aggra- 
vating circumstances that shall make us furi- 
ous. Jealousy.? How many do we at once 
see distancing us in the race to our own most 
prized goal ! Inebriety .? Then we see every 
window filled with glittering bottles, every se- 
ductive sign. We savor the odors of wine, gin, 
beer, drifting from a thousand open dens. Per- 
vasive as the air is that ‘‘ Prince of the power 
of the air” by whom we are caused to offend. 
And how little in reality do we humans do to 
protect one another in this spiritual strife ! 
We are easy-tempered, and we fail to see 
the thousand little rasping instances that 
tempt others into sin. We have no inclin- 
ings to that devil unchained of old, by the 
Arabs, Al-Cohol, and how little we do to 


64 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


take his fatal snares from the head of every 
street, while sixty thousand fall by them into 
death and perdition every year ! And there is 
another fell demon abroad — the demon of play 
— and we dwell in serene unconsciousness of 
the multiplied snares he spreads for souls. Go 
to Atlantic City in “the season.” Pass along 
the board walk. Angels might weep above it, 
and every wave of the sea cry out for justice 
for the souls that are being slain, when nearly 
solid squares of five-cent gambling establish- 
ments sow destruction, pervert childhood, be- 
tray youth, and “secure guests for the depths 
of hell.” 

And where the lights blaze brightest, and 
the full bands thunder, and white-aproned 
waiters fly about, and the stage show is free 
and entrance free, beer gardens by the dozen 
swing wide their gates ; and men, women, and 
little children sit sipping liquid death, and what 
voice protests, and what strong hand saves ? 

Such snares were spread for Whim, — a gam- 
bler’s son, — in whose brain and veins beat the 
hereditary sin. 

He came running in one day, flushed and 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET. 65 

excited. Oh, Doro ! See the splendid knife 
I’ve got ! ” 

It is a nice knife. Where did you get it } ” 

“And almost for nothing! For only five 
cents I ” 

“ But how, Whim ^ — where ? ” 

“ Oh, up here on the Common. There is a 
man with a table and a wheel, and you pay five 
cents and spin the wheel, and wherever the 
arrow on it points, you take up what lies there 
— from nothing at all up to a good knife. I 
got the best thing the first time I I want to 
try again. Let me have five cents, Doro; may- 
be I’ll get some sleeve-buttons next time.” 

The blood seemed to freeze in poor Doro’s 
veins. Oh, why was Whim, the vulnerable one, 
the unhappy winner of the best prize ? Why 
had he not lost his money on a blank, and so 
grown sick of his sin at once, rather than to 
find his Sodom apple sweet and juicy to his 
taste ? 

“Come right along with me. Whim,” she 
cried; and, seizing his hand, led him down to 
Jonas. 

“Tell how you got it,” sobbed Doro, and, 


66 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


seating herself on the roll of leather, she 
dropped her face on her knees and burst into 
bitter crying. Whim, much surprised, told his 
good fortune. 

“ It’s gambling ! clean gambling ! ” cried 
Jonas. “Did you pay the worth of that knife 
Don’t you see he couldn’t give you a twenty- 
five cent knife for five cents, unless at least 
four people had lost all their five cents, or 
eight people had lost half ? Is your knife the 
product of honest money or honest work.? If 
you want a knife, work for one. I’ll put you in 
the way of earning forty cents to-morrow, and 
you can get a three-bladed, strong knife. Give 
me that knife.” 

“ It’s mine,” said Whim. “ What’s Doro go- 
ing on so for .? ” 

“ Because she fears you have set out on the 
road to be a card-sharper, a gambler, a black- 
leg, a swindler, and die a suicide in a gambling- 
hell. That’s what is on her mind. Give me 
that knife and earn one to-morrow.” 

“ Well, I vow, you two do go on over a little 
thing,” said Whim, sulkily, yet holding out the 
knife. 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET. 67 

“ Now,” said Jonas, “ I’m going to the police 
station, and then to the court, to get that man 
put a stop to. I’ll see if he is to have a license 
to go round perverting youth and holding a 
gambling den on the Common.” 

“ Doro, why do you take on so ? Where’s 
the great harm ? ” said Whim, as his sister still 
wept inconsolably. 

Men become every thing that is bad,” said 
Doro, ^‘beginning so.” 

“ But I don’t mean to be every thing that is 
bad, girl.” 

“We know nothing where we shall end, if 
we begin wrong. The way is never to begin. 
Promise me you will never, never do this again. 
Whim.” 

“ Why, of course not, if you’re going to make 
such a row over it ; it is a deal more than it’s 
worth, and the knife gone besides.” 

But Whim had the strong curiosity of bright 
boys, and the ambition to be like men and 
know and do what men. do. How often he 
flattened his handsome nose against a pane, 
watching elegantly dressed men in graceful 
attitudes knocking about balls on green tables. 


68 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


That cost money. But there were signs out 
here and there “ Pool and Billiards PTee ! ” 
And there were signs, Free Pool, and under 
these words a wavy dissolving view of a 
legend that read For Diinks'' Whim did 
not crave the drinks, but he wanted to watch 
and learn the game, and how would Doro have 
shuddered at that atmosphere of oaths and 
tobacco-smoke and alcohol, where the pretty 
innocent boy stood with eager eyes fixed on 
the game. So does one vice pander to 
another. 

Doro had a lesson in reserve for Whim, a 
great and terrible lesson, but it could only be 
given once, and she desired it to be effectual. 
She must withold it until Whim was of age and 
maturity to understand it. For the present, 
she must watch and warn. And, then, it was 
so bitter to unfold to this innocent boy his 
father’s sins. She hoped he was done gambling 
with the “Wheel of Fortune.” So he was, but 
Satan is not so bankrupt in invention as to 
have only the “Wheel of Fortune” at com- 
mand. One afternoon. Whim, strolling along, 
saw a ferret-eyed boy at the entrance of an 


NETS AT THE HEAD OF EVERY STREET. 69 

alley. “Hello!” said the boy; “want some 
fun ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Whim, ever ready for excitement. 
“ Come along in here, then ; there’s a man 
got the prettiest little game, and lots of money 
in it.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


A STRUGGLE FOR WHIM. 

HE remark of the ferret-eyed lad aroused 



curiosity. Whim saw several boys pre- 
ceding him down the alley to an open door ; he 
followed. There he found a little table marked 
off into twelve squares : on eight squares lay 
some money — pennies, nickels, even a quarter. 
There was also a dice-box. The dice had fig- 
ures, not spots. 

“Now,” said the man, “lay down a nickel 
and take the box and throw. You get what is 
marked. That’s it, boy ! Five ! Well, on 
that very five is a nickel ; just as much as you 
put down. You can’t complain; there it is; 
that’s fair. Try again. Nothing ! Well, there’s 
ups and downs in this world. Next time you 
may get a quarter. Who next ? All right. 
No, eight. Three cents on that. Try again, if 
you ain’t chicken-livered. So ; ten cents for 
you! Again.? Your dander’s up. Ha, ha, 
nothing I Once more. There you are, a five I 


A STRUGGLE FOR WHIM. 7 1 

Again — a penny ; half a loaf is better than no 
bread.” 

The door was darkened, and a tall young 
gentleman, with a lady on his arm, came in. 
The man looked up uneasily. “Amusin’ the 
boys with a quiet little game,” he said. 

“Very amiable of you,” said the young 
gentleman. 

Whim, all excitement, was searching his 
pockets for five cents. 

“ It’s sheer gambling,” said the young gen- 
tleman, softly, to the lady ; but Whim heard, 
thought of Doro, and held his hand. 

The man continued : “ It’s all open and fair. 

I don’t drive nobody. I makes nothing ; you 
boys gets all the money and all the fun. Here 
goes ; nothing ! nothing ! one — two cents ! 
nothing ! I vow, you’ve got the quarter ! ” 

The lady spoke in French to her companion, 
and he slid out while she still looked on. 
Whim, all excitement at seeing the winning of a 
quarter, started toward the table ; but the lady, 
held him by the elbow. All the boys, encour- 
aged by the episode of the quarter, poured out 
the nickels. 


72 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“Me!” “Me!” “Ten; Twin ten cents!” 
“Nothing! nothing!” “Three cents for me.” 
“Try again, two; again, five.” “I’ve got my 
money back at least — ” 

The man leaped up, crammed the dice into 
his mouth and the money into his pocket, 
rubbed his coat-skirt over the chalked table. 
Too late ; he was in the grip of a policeman, 
and the lady still looked coolly on, and the 
young gentleman had returned, red in the face 
from running. The lady let go Whim’s elbow. 

“ My pretty boy, never go into a gambling- 
den of any sort again. The man said he made 
nothing ; it seems to me he has now all the 
money in his pockets. What boy here has as 
much as he came in with ? The one who drew 
the quarter is his boy, the one who stood on 
the walk to decoy you all in. Throw out that 
quarter, and look at this little tablet, where I 
have secretly set down the plays. He took in 
three times what he paid out.” 

Whim did not tell Doro that episode in his 
street life. “ What odds,” he said ; “ why 
worry Doro ! He hadn’t gambled.” 

He played now every night at the show, and 

s 


A STRUGGLE FOR WHIM. 


73 


attendance greatly increased. The fact was, 
Whim’s playing was already masterly, and his 
old violin wept and laughed, sang and hoped, 
and prayed and dreamed under his steady bow. 
The famous Cremona was secured in a safe de- 
posit vault, well insured. Whim had hugged and 
kissed it, as if it had been a beloved and living 
thing, before he buried it in its stone tomb. 
He did not know that there was a rampant 
passion that was competent to wrest from him 
his violin, his time, his honor, his all, to be laid 
on the altar of a blank throw. If Whim had. 
such a passion, it was yet nascent. Still the 
world was full of things to evoke it. He had a 
little change at his disposal, especially since he 
played at the show. It usually went for rosin, 
violin strings, sheets of music, blank-books, and 
so on. One day he came running in with a 
little box. Doro was in the kitchen stirring up 
a tea-cake for his supper. Whim liked good 
eating, still he was not greedy. He had now 
some candy, and he did not open it till he could 
share with Doro. 

See here ! Look, Doro, while I open it. 
It’s a prize-packet. Every one has a present in 


74 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


it — rings, pencils, pins, buttons, chains — 
something. One in a hundred has a quarter, 
one in a hundred a little wooden peg to balance 
the quarter. What do you suppose I’ve got t 
Suppose it is the quarter ! ” 

Doro, wrathful, snatched up the unbroken 
parcel and flung it into the stove. “When 
will you stop gambling ” she cried excitedly. 
“You are always at it. You bought ten cents’ 
worth of candy. What right have you to look 
for sleeve-buttons or quarters in it ? If the 
candy was not worth ten cents, why pay ten 
for it on a chance } This is all depending on 
luck, and living in longing for things not fairly 
earned. You’ll ruin yourself and be the death 
of me ! ” Doro was furious and impressive. 
Whim was quite cowed. 

“ Why, Doro, every one buys them. They 
sell in all the stores. Where’s the harm ? ” 
Doro caught him around the neck and began 
to moan and wail over him. “ Oh, my poor 
boy, all the world is bound to ruin you ! Can 
you never be let alone in peace ; my darling, 
must I see you destroyed ? ” 

Poor Whim ! he could not tell what it was all 


A STRUGGLE FOR WHIM. 


75 


about, but he felt that he was always inadver- 
tently treading on slippery places. Another 
day it was, “ Oh, Doro, there’s to be a church 
fair round here in Howard street. Ten cents 
admission. Can’t I take a quarter and go } I 
can get lots for a quarter. Five cents for ice- 
cream and five cents for grab-bag and five cents 
for ring-cake. I may get the ring for you, Doro, 
and in the grab-bag is a nice silver pencil. I 
may get that, Doro.” 

*‘Oh my, oh my!” cried Doro, wringing her 
hands in despair. “If there isn’t more gam- 
bling ! Always something to stir up the thirst 
after luck and chances, and getting -what we 
don’t pay for. Here’s the church fair teaching 
you lottery business ! ” 

“ Why, Doro, what’s up } Of course the 
church fair is all right ; they’re good people ; 
they know. There’s to be shares sold for draw- 
ing a big doll. We don’t want a doll. If it was 
for a pair of skates I’d go in for it ; mine are 
too little.” 

“Shares, lottery shares,” gasped Doro, en- 
vironed with terror. 

“ Of course, they always have them. St. 


76 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Peter’s Catholic Church has a fair, and I got 
in free this morning by helping Nick Mullins 
carry up his ice-cream. There they are sell- 
ing shares in two of the biggest Bibles ever 
you saw, and a great arm-chair stuffed and cov- 
ered with velvet. I’d have taken chances there, 
only I didn’t have the dimes with me.” 

There’s no use,” said Doro to herself in 
deep despondency ; “ Whim can’t be saved ; he 
has to go just like father ; all pushes him into 
destruction.” This preyed on her so that it 
gave her a terrible headache, and she wore a 
deathly look lying on her bed and unable to 
lift head or hand. Whim, much moved, forgot 
his fair, and sat by her bathing her head and 
pitying her very much. Doro felt that she 
would put up with headache all her life, if only 
she might lie there, with Whim sitting safely 
by her, out of the jaws of ruin. But poor Doro 
could not afford to have headaches. She had 
to rise up and exhibit wax. 

“ Say, Doro, got fifty cents to spare ? ” cried 
Whim one day. 

‘‘What for. Whim.?” 

“ To subscribe for a paper. It is the great- 


A STRUGGLE FOR WHIM. 77 

est scheme out. You get the paper weekly for 
a month, and with the subscriptions there arc 
fifty thousand dollars’ worth of prizes to be 
given away — spoons, watches, knives, sewing- 
machines, books, a horse, skates, coats, base- 
balls, croquet sets, — no end of things. Let us 
subscribe. A prize with every subscription. I 
might get a velocipede. In three months the 
prizes are to be distributed. I’ll hate to wait. 
Suppose I got a watch, Doro ! ” 

“ Yes, and suppose you got a tin whistle, and 
suppose you set your mind on this hateful 
masked lottery, so that for three months you 
could not work or study, all your ideas on draw- 
ing a horse or a watch ? Go down and ask 
Jonas what he thinks of it. If he makes it out 
a good thing we’ll subscribe.” 

At the time Whim informed Doro that 
“Jonas didn’t think there was much in that 
scheme anyway — all sham.” These were of 
Whim’s temptations and perils. He had other 
dangers. One day the boy sat reading a his- 
tory of music to his sister, while she repaired 
coronation robes for Elizabeth of England. 
Not that Doro preferred the history of music 


78 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


to any other reading, but it was needful for 
Whim to read it, and he would be more careful 
and remember it better if he read it aloud. 
“ It’s dull reading, Doro ; all my books are 
pretty dull.” 

“ Well, Whim, if you’ll work away at these, 
I will ask after some good stories, musical sto- 
ries, for you to read. I have seen some adver- 
tised all about life at foreign conservatories.” 

There was a step along the hall, and, event 
almost unprecedented, Granby looked in on his 
children. 

Do you need something, father ? ” asked 
Doro. 

“No,” said Granby, “go on with what you 
are about, both.” 

He dropped into a chair and remained for 
half an hour. Doro noted uneasily that his 
eyes were fixed on Whim. That evening 
Granby came home earlier than usual. 

“ Where’s the boy ? ” he demanded. 

“Gone to bed,” said Doro, with a sinking 
heart. 

“ I want him to-morrow,” said Granby. 

“ What for ? ” asked Doro. 


A STRUGGLE FOR WHIM. 


79 


“To set him to work; he’s old enough,” said 
Granby, sharply. 

“He is working; he is busy all day. You 
had better let him be.” 

“I tell you I want him, and I will have him.” 

“Then tell me what to do,” said Doro, quiet 
and white, standing firmly before her father, 
and looking in his eyes. 

“Tell you Well, all right, I will tell you. 
To help me in business.” 

“ Your business is — gambling.” 

“All right. Yes, it is, and pays, too; made 
a hundred to-day.” 

“ Then you sha’n’t have Whim ” — this with 
decision. 

“ Sha’n’t have Whim ! Isn’t he my own son 1 ” 

“Yes ; but he is just as much his dead moth- 
er’s son, and she told me to be sure and bring 
Whim to her to heaven. You know, father, it 
is impossible to get to heaven through the 
gate of a gambling-hell.” 

“ Child ! heaven can take care of itself after- 
wards.” 

“ Father, I am bound to save Whim. Where 
he goes I go. I can not go to God and our 


8o 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


mother alone. Whim has to come. We’ll sup- 
port you gladly by our work ; but, father, you 
shall not have Whim for gambling.” 

“I will. You can not help yourself or him. 
Get to bed.” 

“ I can help him. I shall appeal to the 
court.” 

“Against me — against your father.” 

“Against you, my father. You can not have 
Whim to ruin, body and soul. I know what 
gambling means, father.” 

“Don’t be a fool, worse than your mother.” 

“ If you persist in this, father. Whim shall 
disappear. I am not very big, but in some 
things you will find me stronger than my 
mother. I have grown strong by seeing her 
suffer.” 

Granby walked out of the room. Doro sat 
down to think. Her mind was made up. She 
knew how it would be if Whim went with her 
father. Strong drink in most enticing forms 
would weaken appetite, deaden conscience, fire 
his brain, and the fury of play would be re-en- 
forced by the seduction of wine. Never — he 
should not go ! 



“I want to show him life ami make a man of him.” Page 8i, 
see page 238. 






A STRUGGLE FOR WHIM. 


8 


Next morning Granby, contrary to his cus- 
tom, appeared at the breakfast-table. When 
the meal was over, he said to his son : — 

‘‘Whim, come with me; I have some nice 
easy work for you.” 

“ Whim,” said Doro, in a solemn voice, “don’t 
you go one step ; he wants to make a gambler 
of you.” 

“ I want to show him life, and make a man of 
him.” 

Whim stood dazed and irresolute between 
father and sister. 

“Whim,” said Doro, “if you go with him, as 
sure as you live I will not pay your schooling at 
the Conservatory this year.” 

Granby seized his son’s arm. “ Come along ; 
I’ll give you all the money you want — ten dol- 
lars at a time.” 

Doro rapidly wrote two words on a card, 
walked up to her father and held the card out. 
She was white as snow. The words were Rob- 
ert Archer. 

Granby turned white as his daughter ; he did 
not utter the words, but he looked at them and 
at her. 


82 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ Was that your mother’s legacy ? ” 

“ It was my mother’s legacy.” 

“ Confound the whole brood of you ! ” cried 
Granby, and fled. 

Doro threw up her arms with a low cry. 
This terrible scene had been too much for the 
poor little heart ; she fell on the floor senseless, 
and Maggie and Whim thought she was dead. 
When she finally revived, Whim, in the excess 
of his joy and gratitude, clasped his arms about 
her. “ Poor Doro, don’t be afraid ; I will never 
go with him to his business. I will never gam- 
ble.” 

“ Oh, Whim, Whim ! ” moaned Doro, “ what 
have I had to do to save you ? ” 

What was that you put on the card, Doro } ” 
Never ask me,” said Doro, with a look of 
despair. This poor child had been reduced to 
fight her father with deadly weapons to keep 
him from slaying her brother. 


CHAPTER V. 


A HYMN SELLER. 

J ULY morning, and hot, very. Jonas tap, 
tap, tapping in his den, like a woodpecker in 
a tree. Down Jonas’ steps skips and jumps a 
little wiry old woman — brisk, trim, indigent. 
** Morning ! How are you ? ” chirps the old 
woman. “You're busy earnin’ your livin’, and 
I’m out after mine. We must live, you know, 
and I sells hymns. Buy one ? ” 

“No, I don’t take to hymns,” growled Jonas. 
“ S’pose you don’t ? They’re my living. I 
didn’t ask if you liked ’em, but if you’d buy 
’em. I’m the attic. Very good hymns, five 
cents each. Ten verses for five cents — that 
makes two for a cent, and cheap. Would you 
make two verses for a cent ? Poetry’s a gift.” 

The old lady had established herself on the 
lowest step, and evidently meant to stay until 
she sold her hymn. “ I’ve only one kind. I 
used to carry round five or six kinds, and let 
83 


84 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


people take their choice. I found that would 
not do. Folks looked ’em all over, read ’em 
all, and said they didn’t want any ; or by the 
time they bought one, ten were spoiled and 
ruffled up, and so my goods were gone. Now 
I take round one kind at a time ; when every 
one has bought that I try another. To-day 
I’ve got a ^Spiritual Railroad.' The finest 
railroad ever you see.” 

“ I don’t travel on railroads,” said Jonas, fit- 
ting a patch. 

“Yes, you do, let me tell you. One way or 
the other you’re on a spiritual railroad. If you 
ain’t going up, you’re going down, sixty miles 
an hour. Where are you ticketed for } That’s 
the great question. My hymn says : 

“ ‘ The line to heaven by Christ was made ; 

With heavenly truth the rails are laid; 

From earth to heaven the line extends 
To life eternal, where it ends.’ 

“Ain’t that sweet, now.^* Rolls along just 
like the cars rushing over the track. Now, I’m 
going to give you that hymn, and you’re going 
to give me five cents, and we’ll have made each 
other a little present, as neighbors should, and 


A HYMN SELLER. 


85 


be friendly ever after. You wouldn’t want me 
to beg, would you, nor to come on the poor- 
master.? You can see I couldn’t do heavy 
work. I’m too broke-down in strength. I’ve 
buried a husband and five children with con- 
sumption, and me now left all alone ; so I 
feel like the stump of an old tree left stand- 
ing by itself in a five-acre lot. There’s plenty 
of people round me, but they ain’t my people.” 

“I’ll take two hymns,” said Jonas. 

“ No, you won’t ; you don’t want two of a 
kind. I’ll come another time and bring an- 
other kind, and then you’ll take your second. 
I ain’t begging. This hymn is worth your 
money ; all my hymns are. This is my favor- 
ite to-day. All my hymns are favorites the 
day I take ’em out. I’ll read you a verse out 
of this : — 

“ ‘ The Bible, then, is engineer, 

It points the way to heaven so clear ; 

Through tunnels, dark and dreary here. 

It does the way to glory steer.’ 

“Don’t you relish that, now.? Ain’t it true 
as preachin’ .? ” 

“ It may be true as preaching,” said Jonas. 


86 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ I don’t know how true that is. I don’t take 
much stock in it,” — he secured a waxed end — 
‘‘and as for the Bible, I’m not so clear that it’s 
what it claims to be.” 

“ My land ! ” said the scandalized hymn-seller, 
“if here isn’t a heathen Turk-Chinee Ashantee- 
Indian right in the heart of Boston ! Not that 
I’m calling you any names, my dear friend, 
only characterizing your spiritual state. So 
you don’t think the Bible is a good book ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I do ; but then there are others 
just as good. You may call it inspired if you 
like. I won’t contradict you, if you mean by 
inspired just as Shakespeare and Milton and 
the Koran and the Vedas are inspired.” 

“ I’m not such a fool as I look,” said the 
hymn-seller. “ My profession is literary. I 
know a literary person who writes these 
hymns. I’ve read a great deal to my people 
when they lay sick. Now, look out, or I’ll 
tackle you on this.” 

“Go ahead,” said Jones, getting interested, 
“ I’ve set out my views. What will you 
answer ? ” 

“ I’m not going to run off on any false 


A I/VMN SELLER. 


8 ; 


scents/’ said the hymn-seller. “ When I 
open the Bible I read, ‘Thus saith the Lord,’ 
‘ Hear ye the word of the Lord,’ ‘ And God 
said,’ and so on. Other books don’t claim 
that ; they don’t pretend to be the Word of 
the Lord. We’ll leave them right where they 
stations themselves, and we’ll take up this book 
just where it stations itself. It says it’s the 
Word of the Lord, and it says one jot or one 
tittle shall not pass till all be fulfilled ; and 
whoever adds a word or takes out a word, 
his name is going to be left out of the Book 
of Life. Now, it sets out with great preten- 
sions, and they are either truth or a lie. Don’t 
try to fool me with any talk about the Bible 
being a good book if it is full of lies. It is 
what it says, or it is a sham.” 

“ I don’t know but you’re right there, old 
lady ; but haven’t you heard of pious frauds ? ” 

“Seems to me a contradiction — if pious 
means holy. I don’t quite take to the idea of 
a holy cheat any more than to that of a ravag- 
ing lamb or a carrion-eating dove. But if any 
fraud can be pious, the Bible can’t — it is too out- 
rageous and impudent on the face of it, to put 


88 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


words in God’s mouth, and deceive men with 
false accounts of God’s character, and palm off 
oi;i God a set of laws, if so be none of these 
things came from God. It’s so, or wicked. 
Now, Mr. Shoemaker, you are not the first 
man that has attacked the Bible. There are 
men who have gone before you in that line ; 
name some of them, will you.?” 

“Well, there was Voltaire, and Tom Paine, 
and Gibbon, Rousseau, Holbach, Robespierre, 
all those called the encyclopedists, and a good 
many more.” 

“ A good many, for many years, all attacking 
the Bible, and yet the Bible is as good as new 
— stronger to-day than ever. Mighty powerful 
book for a sham, is it not .? I think I have 
heard of some of those names you mention. 
What has become of them .? Are they, or their 
works, as good as new .? Are they stronger 
than ever.? Isn’t Tom Paine rather out of 
fashion .? Didn’t he die a poor, scared, scream- 
ing drunkard.? Didn’t that Mr. ‘Rosso’ you 
mention put his poor little children in a found- 
ling asylum.? Wasn’t Robespierre’s head chop- 
ped off .? I think I’ve read that in Mr. Voltaire’s 


A HYMN SELLER. 


89 


house now is a Bible Society press, and the 
house is packed with Bibles from top to cellar. 
Should think it wouldn’t do less than make 
him squeak if he knew it. They all fought the 
Bible, you say, and if they were any wise right, 
seems to me they ought to have done the poor 
book some little harm. But, dear knows, the 
more they fight it the more it lifts up its head. 
Cur’ous, ain’t it } I stepped .yesterday into the 
Bible Rooms to sell 'Wicked Polly.’ They’re 
good gentlemen there. I asked ’em a little 
about the business, and they told me that there 
have been two hundred and six translations of 
the Bible into new languages made in eighty 
years, and one hundred and sixty-five million 
of copies distributed in the same time. Pretty 
good, ain’t that, for the Book a lot of infidels 
have bragged they have killed dead so many 
times } But, land ! there’s people will tell you 
they’ve put out the sun, when they’ve clapped 
green specs on their own noses, and that think 
the day’s forever finished when their own eyes 
gives out ! Now, we won’t discourse on that 
any longer to-day. I must save up some 
breath for my customers, but I’ll tackle you 


90 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


again some time cheerful, if you like. You’d 
better read the Book up a bit, to be ready.” 

“At all events. I’ve got one,” said Jonas. 

“ That’s good,” said the hymn-seller. “And 
you read that hymn ; there’s sound doctrine in 
that ; it says : — 

“ ‘ Repentance is the station, then, 

Where passengers are taken in ; 

No fee is there for them to pay. 

For Jesus is himself the way.’” 

The little woman paused to see what effect 
her verse had on Jonas. It was, in her idea, a 
beautiful verse, and he ought to be impressed 
by it. He was not remarkably affected, and 
she proceeded to clinch the verse by appealing 
to “ The Law and the Testimonies.” 

“ ‘ Without money and without price,’ you’ll 
find that in the Bible. Look it up. Also, ‘ I 
am the way, the truth, the life.’ ” 

“ I say, how did you come to take up hymn- 
selling ” demanded Jonas, laying down his 
work. 

“ How did you come to take up cobbling } ” 

“ Because I was mad ; mad with every thing 
and every body ! ” 


A HYMN SELLER. 


91 


“ What a pity ! I hope you’ve got over it ! 
Well, that was not my case. I had to make 
a living, and the doctor told me I ought to be 
in the air all the time, I was so poisoned nurs- 
ing consumption all those years. Well, I did 
hanker to do some work that would help other 
folk as well as pay my rent and bread. So one 
day I found dropped on the street some stuff 
printed in verse ; it was the worst stuff ever 
you see or heard of ; it was just fair red-hot out 
of hell. I just thought any creature as could 
make and drop around such fearful stuff to drag 
young boys and girls to destruction ought to 
be kept in prison to all eternity.” 

“So they ought. I’m with you there,” said 
Jonas, heartily. 

“And mark you, Mr. Cobbler, the Bible is 
the only book that promises them that suitable 
reward. Tom Paine didn’t.” 

Jonas dropped his head. 

The hymn-seller continued : “ It came to 

my mind, since the devil is going round like 
a raging lion, selling indecency and blasphemy 
done up in verses, why can’t I fight him by 
going round selling good Gospel truth in 


92 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


hymns ? I wanted to find some done up at- 
tractive and handsome in blue, but I couldn’t. 
What could be prettier than a nice blue-bor- 
dered sheet with such verses as this on it } — 

“ ‘ Thou didst leave Thy throne, 

Thou didst leave Thy crown, 

When Thou earnest to die for me. 

But there was no home 
On earth had room 

For Thy Holy Nativity. 

Come into my heart. Lord Jesus, come ; 

There is room in my heart for Thee ! ’ ” 

The hymn-seller chanted this in a poor, 
quavering, earnest voice. 

Well, while I was resolving this in my 
mind I went to see an old army sergeant on 
a pension. He is bed-rid along of his legs, 
but he is death on making hymns, and he 
has piles of ’em, writ out by his bed, and he 
gives ’em to his friends. He told me he’d 
write the hymns for nothing for me, but the 
rub was to get ’em printed. But look you, 
Mr. Shoemaker, the Lord don’t forsake his 
own. Whom did I meet but a young man 
who liked me because, he said. I’d been kind 
to his mother. Maybe I had. We ought to 


A HYMN SELLER. 


93 


be kind to each other. It is commanded. So 
he said he was a printer, and he’d print my 
hymns nights for nothing, and some way he 
interested his boss in me, and he gave the 
paper, and this lovely blue ink. Ain’t those 
hymns handsome ? Blue print and blue bor- 
ders ! I paste up one of each kind on the 
wall of my room, and it looks just like a par- 
lor. I often laugh in my sleeve when I think 
of Satan promenading in there to see what 
he may devour, and finding me out, and them 
hymns glaring at him along the wall. I bet 
he’ll stir up the wretch that put the thing in 
my head by dropping vile trash ; he’ll stir him 
up with his poker if ever he gets hold of him, 
as he’s bound to do, if he hasn’t already.” 

Suppose you move from the attic. How 
about your wall 

Oh, I sha’n’t move. The landlord’s a good 
friend of mine. I am come to stay. I calculate 
not to move until the Lord sends me word 
that- he’s got my number among the many 
mansions finely furnished up, and sends me 
the latch-key, and tells me to move in. That 
’ll be a good day for me.” 


94 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


The hymn-seller laid the “ Spiritual Rail- 
road” on the box of shoemaker’s tools and 
trotted off. In looking over her bundle, she 
saw she had one hymn of another kind. That 
being against her rule, she concluded to sell it 
at once, and knocked at the door of the first 
floor kitchen, where Maggie, with great drops 
of perspiration rolling over her comely face, 
was grumbling away with her dish-washing. 

“ Good morning ! Hope you’re well,” said 
the cheery woman. 

Couldn’t be worse. Tm so hot.” 

Well, here is a pretty hymn I want to sell 
you for five cents. ' It will cheer you. It is 
about a wicked girl named Polly.” 

“I don’t care for hymns,” said Maggie; 
“I feel too sad,” and she told the story of 
Doro and her father. 

“Oh, you’ll like this. It tells how Polly 
danced and sung, and wouldn’t turn to the 
Lord. She said she’d turn when she was old. 
Then the Lord sent Death for her, and it 
was too late. Says wicked Polly — ‘Too late ! ’ 
I believe that is true. Don’t you } It stands 
to reason it would be too late if wicked Polly 


A HYMN SELLER. 


95 


wouldn’t turn when she had a chance ; and 
when Death got her it must be too late. Oh, 
there’s a whole heap like that, and the Lord’s 
not to blame. Don’t he say he stretches out 
his hands all day to a disobedient people } 
Don’t he say he called often and folks re- 
fused } Don’t he tell you he rises up early 
and calls ? ” 

“ I see you are a religious woman,” said 
Maggie ; “ I like religious talk myself if I 
could get any satisfaction in hearing any, but 
I start the day so riled along of /izm I can’t 
tend to nothing. He’s no more humanity : 
the idea, demanding to have a shirt and collar 
a day, washed and polished, and his coffee 
scalding hot and strong as lye at eleven 
o’clock, and me over the fire making toast 
for him ! And Doro, she insists he must 
have it all, because he is her father. Now, 
I don’t hold by fathers who don’t act a father’s 
part, and he don’t thank the little soul for it. 
If there’s any thing lacking in the stiffness, or 
the strongness, or five minutes late, or a burnt 
bit on the toast, he says she don’t supersede 
the house worth any thing. Supersede, in- 


96 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


deed ! I don’t want any superseding. I’d 
supersede him out of the place if I had my 
v/ay. There she comes now.” 

Singing along the hall, the flute-like voice: — 

“ ‘ I feel like singing all the time, 

All the time like singing.’ ” 

Doro was a cheerful little creature if she had 
any chance. 

“ I don’t see what you find to sing about,” 
said Maggie, with refreshing frankness. I 
don’t feel like it, I tell you.” 

“No, Maggie, my dear; you feel like grum- 
bling all the time, and it don’t pay. It takes 
twice as much out of you as singing. Who 
IS this.?” 

“ I’m the attic.” 

“ Here’s a hymn I bought of her,” said 
Maggie. 

“That’s right. We must live and let live — 
she by hymns and I by wax. I’m in luck, 
Maggie ; I met my Sunday-school teacher, 
and she so much liked the ‘ Babes in the 
Wood ’ that she sold for me, that she asked 
for something for a little girl’s birthday, and 


A HYMN SELLER. 


97 


I’ve thought of ‘Goody Two Shoes.’ I’m to 
send it when it’s done, and she paid me five 
dollars in advance. That must go to you, 
Maggie ; you haven’t had any thing for a long 
while. Here’s the marketing. Can you make 
a living out of hymns, ma’am } ” 

“Well — more or less. In winter, what 
with light and fuel, and needing more to eat, 
I have it pretty close, and I have fallen back 
in my rent sometimes. That’s all paid now, and 
I don’t calculate to fall back any more. The 
landlord here is friendly to me. I’ve sold hymns 
to his wife. She is a Christian woman, and 
that’s the kind that have soft hearts, you know. 
I get my attic for two dollars a month.” 

“ Only one room ! ” cried Maggie. “ That’s 
hard. I lived once with rich people that had 
sixteen rooms, and every one carpeted with 
Turkey carpet and set up in plush furniture.” 

“And you liked that fine, ma’am.?” 

“You’d better believe I didn’t. It was work, 
work, work, day in and day out. Keeping 
clean those carpets and all that plush was 
no fun ; and such a raft of visitors ! I hated 
the sight of the whole thing.” 


98 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ I’m well off in my attic. I call it parlor, 
bed-room, dining-room, kitchen. When I’m 
cooking my little mite of food at the grate, 
says I, ‘ Here’s my kitchen.’ I don’t need 
more than a kitchen when I’m in the kitchen, 
do I } When it is all ready I lay a towel on a 
table, and set a chair, and put out my spread, 
whatsoever it is, and I say, ‘ Here’s my dining- 
room.’ Couldn’t be in more than the dining- 
room while I’m eating, could I ? When 
I’ve done my day’s work, I have a little square 
of rag carpet, a little footstool, a little rocking- 
chair, and I set them all convenient, and I 
fold my hands in my lap, and look at my 
hymns on the wall ; and I say ‘ Here I am in 
my parlor, clean, cosey,’ — all I want while I’m 
there, you see. When bed-time comes, I go 
to my bedroom in the far corner. There’s 
my bed ; there’s a nail for my clothes ; there’s 
a tin basin, and a little glass, and a towel, and 
a bit of soap, and a mat by the bed, and a 
little box for a seat and a trunk together ; and 
I say, H’m well off for rooms; here’s a bed- 
room to myself, all so comfortable.’ When I 
asks my blessing and reads my chapter and 


A HYMN SELLER. 


99 


says my prayers, God is not far off. He hears 
me as well as if I lived in a brown-stone front.” 

“And how are you off for eating.?” asked 
Maggie, interested. 

“ Oh, well enough. When I can get my 
reg’lar coffee I am all right. I do hate to come 
short of coffee. Fm set up if I have a tomato 
and a roasting ear to my bread.” 

“ Dear knows,” said Maggie, “ how different 
the world does live ! I hired once to a very 
luscious family who did nothing but eat and 
drink. Coffee, tea, chocolate, all on the table 
at once, not to mention milk. Never sat down 
to dinner without fish, fowl, roast meat, to say 
nothing of soup and side dishes ; all vegetables 
that were out of season, because then they cost 
lots of money, and were supposed to taste pref- 
erable, as green peas in January, and radishes 
and new potatoes in February, and strawberries 
all winter, and grapes in April. As for cakes 
— no end of them, with jellies and pies.” 

“ Then you were a made woman, living so 
well,” said the hymn-seller, relishingly, she hav- 
ing breakfasted on bread and water. 

“ Made ! Not I ! I thought I should die of 


lOO 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


the heat. Cook, cook, cook, night and day ! I 
was sick of the sight of food and wasting. If 
there was one thing I hated more than a turkey 
it was a lobster, or maybe a salmon-trout. 
I’ve had to throw away as much apricots, 
peaches, and limes as would run a family, and 
now we never can have a berry or a melon or 
a tomato, till they are so plenty in market that 
they are cheap. Dear knows, it’s hard times.” 

“ Why, we can’t have every thing, evidently,” 
said the hymn-seller. ^‘We can’t have the 
plenty and the enjoyment. I’ll get a hymn 
made upon that topic. Miss, what is this you 
are doing } A cup of coffee for me ! and a 
slice of meat ? Why, land, I haven’t had a bite 
of meat for a week — how good it looks ! But 
don’t rob yourself ! ” 

“ We have plenty,” said Doro, privately eying 
the small amount of cold mutton, designed 
as /fzke de resistance for the day. “ Come to 
think of it, Maggie, we had better have our 
meat in a pie ; it will go farther. Whim is so 
hearty.” 

“Yes, but pie-crust takes lard,” objected 
Maggie. 


A HYMN SELLER. 


lOI 


“ Make a crust of stale bread, buttered a lit- 
tle and browned. It looks and tastes well. 
And then, Maggie, as we don't eat soup in hot 
weather, break the bone and boil it all day into 
a good broth for this old lady to-night. You 
can put some of our vegetables in it — a little 
sliced potato and carrot — and give her this 
tomato, too.” 

“Now I am set up,” said the attic. “I’ll 
travel round with a good heart. I’ve got twenty 
cents in my pocket. That I can save now. 
You see, I want to lay up a little for winter, 
before cold weather sets in. That’s according 
to Scripture. We are to take no worry for to- 
morrow, but we are to consider the ant that lays 
up for winter.” 

“That is a good old woman,” said Doro, 
when she went out. 

“ Oh, it’s easy enough to be good,” said 
Maggie, “ when you have a little place of your 
own, and no one to plague, nothing to cook, no 
shirts to do ; when you’re thin and don’t heed 
heat, and riimble and don’t mind cold. That’s 
not my case.” 

The next Sunday evening Jonas asked Doro 


102 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


if she would go up to the attic with him to 
visit the hymn-seller. “She is such a brisk, 
bright, friendly, contented creature,” he ex- 
plained, “and I got a little interested in her 
talk.” They took Whim along to keep him out 
of mischief, and found the attic sitting in her 
parlor ; the dormer-window was open, her Bible 
lay on the sill, she leaned back in her splint 
chair, and took her rest on the resting-day. 
She was very glad to see her visitors. Whim 
had the stool, the cobbler the box, Doro the 
other chair. 

“ Well now, I take this friendly,” the attic 
said. “ And this pretty boy, too ! I must 
choose him out a hymn to cheer him up. 
Here’s just the thing, right beside me — a new 
one, * The Dying Young Man.’ I had great 
luck with him. I took him out Friday and sold 
then and Saturday fifty. I never did so well 
before. Praise God, from whom all blessings 
flow ! But ‘The Dying Young Man ’ is a beau- 
tiful piece. Here’s the first verse : — 

“ ‘ I am but twenty-one in years, 

And on my death-bed lie ; 

A question now to me appears. 

Am I prepared to die ? ’ 


A HYMN SELLER. 


103 


“ That’s a very great question, you see. We 
ought all to ask it, as we may die any day. 
You, my pretty boy, feel strong and well. I 
hope you’ll remain so fifty years. You’ll be 
none the less so for being prepared to go any 
time that the Lord sends down marching orders. 
Here’s a verse for you : — 

“ ‘ Ask, and it shall be given you, 

Seek while in health, you’ll find. 

Knock, and the door will open too, 

Or you’ll be left behind.’ 

‘‘That is all Scripture. ‘To-day if you will 
hear His voice, harden not your hearts.’ ‘ Ask 
and it shall be given you.’ ‘To him that 
knocketh it shall be opened.’ Scripture is full 
of promises as the heaven is of stars. I hope 
they’ll all be fulfilled to you, my pretty boy. 
Now read that ninth verse.” 

Whim, much embarrassed at this especial 
notice, read : — 

“ ‘ Remember when on me you think, 

That you must die like I, 

So that you hereby warning take, 

And to your Saviour fly.’ ” 

“That’s it,” said the old lady, nodding her 
head. “That’s it. You will do that^ won’t 


104 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


you, sonny ? Is it you I hear making music of 
evenings in your room ? My land, I thought 
an angel right out of heaven had got loose, the 
first time I heard you ! I listen near your door 
sometimes. You don’t mind that, do you } It 
lifts me right up. It seems to me as if I could 
hear my dear husband and children singing 
hymns up on the sea of glass, when I hear them 
tones.” 

Madam,” said Whim courteously, ‘"you are 
welcome to come inside my door if you like to 
hear me play. Do not stand outside and listen. 
I will bring up a good chair for you there.” 

Doro approbatively stroked Whim’s shoulder. 
And Jonas admitted in his secret heart, “That 
young rascal isn’t quite such a cub, after all.” 

“My dear boy, you’re kind, and I take it 
kindly. I’ll tap, and if you’re not in the mood 
don’t open. I sha’n’t mind. Your music rests 
me like a chariot of gold. It sweeps me right 
up like Elijah. I mind the song of the ‘ Saved 
in Glory,’ ‘For Thou wast slain, and hast re- 
deemed us to God by Thy blood.’ That’s the 
song. If you took ‘Atoning Blood’ and a 
‘ Dying Redeemer ’ out of the Bible, there 


A HYMN SELLER, 


105 


wouldn’t be any heavenly song left — nothing 
to make one of, you see, for it is a song of 
redeeming blood. Oh, I think of that ! ” 

Then for the first time this boy got a glimpse 
of the virtue of the talent entrusted to him, and 
of the meaning and power of music. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE cobbler’s STORY. 

“ OOD-MORNING ! Haven’t seen you 
for a week.” Thus the hymn-seller to 
the cobbler. 

“ That’s your fault for not calling. Haven’t 
you been selling hymns ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, every day ; but you’re not a rich 
man, and I don’t expect you to buy reg’lar. I 
brought you ‘ The Road to Ruin ’ this morning. 
You’ll buy that ; it will suit you.” 

“ I’m afraid ‘ The Road to Ruin ’ would be a 
poor investment.” 

Not as a warning. It meets your case. 
As I don’t come often. I’ll sit down. I regulate 
my visiting by the Scripture ; it says, ‘ With- 
draw thy foot from thy neighbor’s house, lest 
by thine often coming he weary of thee, and so 
hate thee.’ ” 

That’s good sound sense,” said Jonas. 

“ Ain’t it ? The Bible’s chock full of sound 

io6 


THE COBBLER'S STORY. 


107 


sense. Now, the 'road to ruin’ turns out to be 
not believing and obeying the Bible. We 
tackled that question a while ago. Do you 
want any more talk on it } ” 

" I’ve no objections. You made some very 
fair remarks then. I’m open to arguments, if 
there are any. Let us hear them.” 

"Well, now, it seems to me a proof that the 
Bible is the true Book of God, as it claims to 
be, is that it has lived so long making that 
claim. All of it is now over eighteen hundred 
years old, and some of it over three thousand.” 

" I don’t know as it can be proved so old ; 
still, we’ll say it is the oldest book in the world. 
But there are others that are many hundred 
years old, and have been all this time honored. 
There are the works of Xenophon, Plato, He- 
rodotus, Homer, for instance.” 

" Well, have they lived down so many attacks 
on ’em Has there been a steady charge 
against them that they are false and foolish, 
and not the work of their claimed authors ? 
You see a fort that has stood all the attacks of 
all the war-engines in the world shows it is a 
good, solid fort. Then, have those books been 


io8 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


translated into all tongues, and become the 
property of all the world, high and low, rich 
and poor, learned and stupid, sick and well, 
young and old, men and women ? ” 

No, they are not of such general interest.” 

“ And how does it come that no book that 
claims to have been, or shows to have been, 
written by man, is of this general interest that 
it suits and fills every body in all ages and coun- 
tries, while the book that claims to have been 
written by God takes just that place, and does 
suit every one. Don’t it look as if He, who 
made all men and knows what is in man, made 
a book to hit man’s need, as no man could 
have fitted up } ” 

“ That is certainly a very strong argument,” 
said Jonas. 

So it is,” said the hymn-seller, charmed 
with his assent. “ And did ever you see such 
a book for tackling vices and showing ’em up, 
and leading reforms ? People call themselves 
reformers and think they’ve started something 
new, and there is that blessed old Book carry- 
ing the banners far ahead of ’em all. Just look 
at the Temperance work. You uphold that — 


THE COBBLER'S STORY. 


109 


and all its arguments and its principles, and its 
finest speeches have been in the Bible, while 
men were dead and dumb, letting poor souls 
drown in drink — and for all it is old it is 
always up with the times, and new and fresh. 
Why, it’s just like Aaron’s rod; they said it was 
only dead wood, but lo ! it all broke into bloom. 
Well, now, Mr. Cobbler, I say if the Bible was 
a human book it would have the luck of some 
other human book.” 

I don’t know,” said the Cobbler ; “ how 
about Shakespeare t ” 

Him as wrote the plays ? Well, I’ll fetch 
a remark as to him that I heard made by 
a lawyer. Shakespeare’s plays has got a yoke- 
feller in ‘ Pilgrim’s Progress.’ * Pilgrim’s Prog- 
ress’ has been translated as much, reprinted as 
much, sold as many copies, quoted as much, 
commented on as much, lived in people’s 
thoughts as much as Shakespeare. And here’s 
another observation : Them two books both 
stands by and quotes and believes in the Bible. 

* Pilgrim’s Progress ’ is pretty near all Bible, 
and Shakespeare never though^^ of disbelieving 
the Bible ; but he expounds actions right out 


I lO 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


of it like a believer. Did ever infidel come 
home to the heart like him 1 Why, I’ve read 
him, and he made me cry copious, I do assure 
you ! ” 

The hymn-seller saw that Jonas had no dis- 
pute with her concerning Shakespeare. But she 
had set herself not merely to talk to Jonas, but 
to win him to a belief in the Book she loved. So 
she got back to her theme. ‘‘Now, my friend, 
we’ll go where we started from. The Bible 
claims to be like no other book in its author or 
its authority, and no other book can run couple 
with it. Where is a land where the Bible isn’t } 
The wiser the world gets, the more Bibles 
it keeps printing. Sail to any coast in the world, 
and somehow you’ll find that book there. It’s 
every-where, like air and water. And here’s 
another fact which speaks wonders for its in- 
fluence and its morals — and if it was a lying 
book it couldn’t have such morals and influence 
— the more Bibles there are in a country, 
the more schools, the more good homes, the 
more good laws, better order, the more honest 
property, more education. Land ain’t worth so 
much where Bibles is scarce, even if folks is 


. THE COBB LER^S STORY. HI 

plenty. You’d rather invest in Massachusetts 
than China. You put one of your infidels, that 
lives by cursing the Bible, into a back-woods 
house. Put in his pocket the cash he got for 
his last attacks on the Bible at two hundred 
dollars a night, and put in the house six 
strange big men, with rifles convenient, and 
big knives. The infidel will fear for his money, 
and get out his revolver and sit up all night. 
And if through a chink in the door he sees 
them big men reading a portion of a worn old 
Bible before they goes to bed, he puts up his 
revolver and drops off like a baby. What he 
calls a ^ lying book’ is a better guard in his 
estimation than three policemen. He knows 
rascals don’t read it or live by it, while he is 
rascal enough to make his living by running it 
down, to people who dont read ity and wont hear 
the other side.'" 

** That’s another strong argument,” said Jonas. 

Well, I’m done argufying for to-day. We’ll 
tackle this again. You read the ‘ Road to 
Ruin ; ’ here’s a verse : — 

“ ‘ There was one light to light his path. 

And teach him to escape from wrath ; 

He flung the Bible clean away — 

Twill meet him at the Judgment Day.’ 


12 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Yes, there’ll be one place where we’ll have to 
meet the Bible square in the eye, and be 
judged by it. Then for good or evil we and 
the Bible will part forever.” 

“ Are you talking about the Bible ? ” asked 
a soft voice. It was Doro, standing in the 
inner door. “Here is a verse about the 
Bible : — 

“ ‘ A comfortable book for them that mourn, 

And good to raise the courage of the poor; 

It lifts the veil, and shows, beyond the bourne. 

Their Elder Brother, from His home secure, 

That for them desolate He died to win. 

Repeating, Come, ye blessed, enter in.’ 

Your Bible usually has dust on it, Jonas. I 
think you would be happier if you read it more. 
It is good for all trouble.” 

“ Something has gone wrong in your life. 
Cobbler,” said the hymn-seller. 

“You wouldn’t think it much, perhaps, but 
it was much to me.” 

“Yes,” said the old woman, “the Scripture 
has it, ‘ The heart knoweth its own bitterness, 
and a stranger intermeddleth not with its woe.’ 
But there is One who need not be a stranger to 


THE COBBLER'S STORY. 1 13 

any of us, and He can understand all our trou- 
bles. ‘ In all our afflictions He was afflicted.’ ” 
“Not in any way such as mine,” said Jonas. 
“ Mine is a trouble of the nineteenth century. 
I’ll tell you the whole of it, though I never told 
it before. From the first I can remember, I 
wanted above all things to write a book. I 
wanted to write a book that should last, and be 
remembered when I was dead. I thought I 
could immortalize myself. If I had had the 
choice given me of a fortune or authorship, I 
would have taken authorship and a crust. I 
preferred the honor of making a book to any 
other honor — music, painting, politics, riches, 
seemed nothing to compare to it. It was the 
craze of my life. Now, I had no gifts for mak- 
ing poetry, and no fancy that could go out in 
novels or story-writing, and indeed that was 
not the kind of a book I wanted to write. I 
wanted to be quoted as an authority, and I set 
my mind and heart on writing a book on chro- 
nology, comparing all systems, rectifying dates, 
and arranging them harmoniously, and making 
them easy to understand and arrange. I had 
no copious language for beautiful writing, but I 


14 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


wanted to do well this hard technical writing. 
I was self-taught almost. I was poor, and 
bound to a shoemaker. I learned my trade, 
and studied nights. I learned Latin and 
Greek, German and French, so I could read 
them fairly for my work. I remember I hated 
Horace for thinking a cobbler should not go 
beyond his last. Finally, when I was twenty- 
one, and free of my master, I took five more 
years for steady study, living hard by evening 
work at my trade. I dressed coarsely, slept in 
a cold attic, ate chiefly corn-meal mush and 
milk and cold boiled beef. I spent my days 
in libraries. Then I commenced my work. I 
toiled ten years on my book. I walked from 
city to city, trying libraries. I worked my way 
to England, and was two years in the British 
Museum, which is open to the poorest when 
honest intention is proved. I carried my 
papers around. I lived for the future. I had 
finally a thousand pages, fair and neat ; my 
work was done. Then I went from publisher 
to publisher, from city to city, and wrote to 
London, and not one would take my book. All 
said it would not pay. It would be costly to 


THE COBBLER^S STORY. 

get out, and no demand for it ; subject not in- 
teresting ; people were satisfied with works of 
that kind now in market Finally, it could not 
be published unless I furnished the money. 
Then I spent my evenings revising, correcting, 
reading this manuscript that I loved like my 
own soul, and all day long I worked like a 
beaver, and saved money, almost starving my- 
self, so I could get means sooner to put myself 
in print In five years I had the money. I 
gave it to the publisher who would do the 
work cheapest ; we agreed on paper, type, 
binding. I got fifteen per cent, off prices for 
paying in advance. I took a little room in the 
attic of the establishment, so I could watch 
over the preparation of my work, and study 
every line of proof again and again. I had all 
my notes, papers, items in a box under my bed. 
It was a small establishment in a crowded part 
of the city. One night a fire broke out in it, 
in the printing-room. The smoke rolled up 
and suffocated me, I suppose. There were 
many years I wished it had killed me. The 
first I knew I was dragged out by firemen, 
who came down through the scuttle in the 


Il6 IN BLACJC AND GOLD. 

roof. Even then I struggled to get back for 
my box. In vain — they held me. The floor 
fell in ; my book was about ready for binding ; 
all was gone, proofs, manuscripts, plates, 
sheets, notes, collections, items, money, all, 
all. You remember, it was the hope and idea 
of my life, the toil of twenty bitter years. I 
was forty-two years old, and really old from 
overwork and worry and poverty. I think I 
was nearly crazy. Then I hated myself and all 
men. I went back to cobbling. I’ve cobbled 
for fifteen years. I hate a world where I shall 
never be known, never thought of after I am 
dead. I’ve never found any one to care for but 
little Doro here, and, somehow, I took to her, 
she is making such a gallant fight with fate.” 

“Dear, dear,” said the hymn-seller, “you 
have had a hard run of luck ! But affliction 
groweth not up out of the dust ; it rains down 
from heaven to make our souls grow, which 
were getting dry as dust in the cares of this 
world. Set not your affections on things 
below, but on things above. You made a 
mistake when you thought you could be im- 
mortal in this world, for the world and the 


THE COBBLER'S STORY. 


17 


things that are therein shall be burned up. 
But you know, dear Mr. Cobbler, that you 
can live and be immortal where Jesus sitteth 
at the right hand of God. Every good work 
you do for him, even so small as giving a 
cup of cold water, will be laid up in eternity 
and made mention of and rewarded when we 
stand with all the world in judgment. I take 
it your book was a book of times, dates, and 
so on, but such would be of no account when 
time shall be no longer, while love of God 
and service of Christ shall be a treasure laid 
up in heaven, if so be you pursue it. I don’t 
agree with you that you have had a trouble 
that the Lord Jesus can’t appreciate. You 
are mourning over the loss of years of work, 
and over your destroyed writing, and the ruin 
of what you made ; and what do you suppose 
the good Lord feels at seeing the ruin, by 
sin, of the world that he made very good, 
and the loss of souls that should have loved 
and served him forever } Thirty- three years 
he left the glory of heaven and lived in this 
wicked world ; poor, without where to lay his 
head, he was weary, hungry, homeless, for- 


Il8 . IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

saken by his friends, rejected by his own, 
betrayed by his servant, and the end of his 
thirty-three years’ work was crucifixion. He 
knows how to feel for you, I do assure you.’’ 

“Well, when all’s said, I can’t put my book 
back.” 

“No; but you can have what ia better. 
You" can cast your burden on the Lord, and 
live to please him and help your fellows, 
and get to glory when you die. Now I must 
go off to my rounds, or I won’t make my 
living to-day. This summer I want to get 
enough ahead to buy a ton of coal for winter 
and have two months’ rent in advance, and 
get me a warm gown and a hood and flannel 
petticoat ; then I’ll be up for winter.” 

“Good little soul, isn’t she.?” said Jonas 
to Doro, as ^‘the attic” trotted off. “I mean 
to make her a’ pair of strong flannel-lined shoes 
for winter. She means well, and perhaps 
there is truth in what she says, that I haven’t 
been able to get at, with all my study.” 

“No doubt, Jonas, your study was all very 
good, but there was another study that you 
left out. Somewhere it says, ‘This ought ye 


THE COBBLER'S STORY. I IQ 

to have clone, and not have left the other 
undone.’ When all’s said, I think we waste 
life if we don’t study Christ and try to learn 
him. I should die of worry about Whim, if I 
did not feel that Jesus heard my prayers, and 
loved Whim also. There is a poem I read a 
great deal ; the more I read it, the more I like 
it ; I like these two verses : 

“ ‘ And didst Thou love the race that loved not Thee ? 

And didst Thou take to heaven a human brow ? 

Dost plead with man’s voice by the marvellous sea. 

Art Thou his kinsman now ? 

“ ‘ O God ! O Kinsman, loved, but not enough ! 

O Man, with eyes majestic after death ! 

Whose feet have toiled along our pathways rough. 

Whose lips drew human breath ! ’ ” 

“Yes; but I shouldn’t know in such words 
whether it was the music and beauty, or sense 
that took my heart.” 

“Then study your Bible, an’d see how you 
take the sense of that. There’s a young man 
looking in your window.” 

“Don’t run off. It is only young Jonas; 
hello, boy! come down.” 

Young Jonas, a well-made fellow of eighteen, 
came down. 


120 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ How are you, cousin ? ” 

“None of the best — I never am; I’m at 
swords’ points with creation.” 

“Not with me, I hope.” 

“Not especially with you, young Jonas, nor 
yet with this little girl here.” 

“ Then there are two of us the Ogre don’t 
intend to eat up,” said young Jonas, turning 
brightly to Doro. “ I’m glad there is some 
one to charm dull care away from old Jonas. 
I take an interest in him, as he’s the only 
relative I have in the world.” 

“ How did you come here, long-legs } ” asked 
the cobbler. 

“Walked, I’ve walked for a month, pounding 
away at rocks and taking notes, along with the 
state geologist and a party. They took me along 
at my professor’s request ; thought I would be 
a kind of bottle-holder, I suppose, but soon I 
was hammering away with the rest of them. 
I’m going to get into the Smithsonian.” 

“ What will be the end of it all } Geology, 
chronology — all vanity and vexation of spirit.” 

“ You gave in too easy, old Jonas,” said the boy, 
with the hope, audacity, and freedom of youth. 


THE COBBLER'S STORY. 


12 


Suppose the manuscripts were lost, you had 
the cultivation of years of work, and vast stores 
of knowledge in your head. If you couldn’t be 
an author just then, a man of your calibre 
could do better than cobble shoes. You could 
have got a professorship of history, — working 
up to it, you see, and in time, in congenial sur- 
roundings, you could have done another and a 
better book. Why put yourself to a martyr- 
dom of pegs and bristles, when your bent was 
to books ^ ” 

**A11 things are possible to the young and 
ignorant — in imagination,” said old Jonas. 
“ My long burden had broken my elasticity ; 
when I was crushed I could not lift up again. 
Let be : I am used to it now.” 

“ Can’t you do any thing for him } ” said 
young Jonas to Doro. 

‘‘Yes; I can invite him to dinner. I came 
down for that and have talked nearly an hour 
and a half, neglecting my wax ! I would like 
you both to dinner, please. It is my birthday, 
and Maggie has a chicken pot-pie and a berry 
pudding.” 

“We’ll come!” cried young Jonas, “pot-pie 


122 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

« 

and pudding are the delights and condiments of 
my life.” 

“We’ll be too much trouble,” said old Jonas. 

“ No, indeed. Maggie grumbled an hour this 
morning because we never had any company to 
taste her cooking, or tell the news, or cheer 
her up. She said she had always been used to 
seeing people have visitors.” 

“ We’ll come up in an hour,” said the cob- 
bler. 

“ What a little fairy, and what a charming 
voice,” said young Jonas, when left alone with 
the cobbler. 

“She’s a little hero — a little saint. She’s 
gone far to reconcile me with living, and prove 
the Bible to me, since she lives by it.” 

“That’s good news,” said young Jonas. 

“‘She supports her family. She has the 
wisest little business head. She works little 
images in wax like a real genius. She is just 
as faithful about her wax show to be correct as 
if her life depended on it. She is fighting the 
world, the flesh, and the devil, and her own 
father to boot, for the life and soul of her 
brother, and I believe she will gain the day. 


THE COBBLE R^S STORY. 


123 


As for the father, he cares nothing for his chil- 
dren, broke his wife’s heart, expects to be 
treated like a lord, and never contributes a 
penny to the family’s support, and this girl 
waits on his every whim ; arranges all to suit 
him except letting him ruin her brother. As 
for sharing his winnings when he makes any, 
she wouldn’t, for one day I asked her and she 
said no, that was not honest money ; she would 
never touch it, even if it were offered, which it 
never is.” 

'‘Why, she is a brave little creature,” said 
young Jonas. 

Meanwhile, upstairs, Doro informed Maggie 
of the guests. 

“ Of course,” growled Maggie, “ hot day ; I’m 
ready to drop, and so there must be a raft of 
company asked. I hate visitors when there is 
nothing for them ; if you had broiled pigeons, 
watermelons, and ice-cream, you might ask 
company.” 

“ But, Maggie, you said so much about want- 
ing some company, that was why I asked 
them.” 

“ I know there won’t be dinner enough, and 


124 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


ten to one the pot-pie will burn, and there is no 
sauce for the pudding.” 

“ I will make a nice sauce at once, Maggie.” 

“ And I didn’t mean two people, nor common 
people like cobblers and their young Jonases ; 
I meant quality.” 

“ But we are common people, and don’t know 
any quality.” 

“ No, we have the worst of every thing. Dear 
me, what elegant ladies I see on the streets, 
with laced parasols and long trains ! ” 

And, Maggie, you’ll be sure and put on the 
collar I bought you, and the white apron I made 
for you last week } ” 

It’s too hot for all that worry,” said Maggie, 
but she did put on these decorations, and was 
very pleasant after all. 

That evening when the Wax-Work Show 
was well in progress. Whim playing his best, 
Jonas stepped to the sidewalk to listen. A 
cab stopped, and two men lifted out Mr. 
Granby. The immaculate shirt, which had 
cost Maggie so much polishing, was drenched 
in blood ; this coat-sleeve was torn off ; his 
eyes were closed ; his hair hung dank, and 


THE COBBLER'S STORY. 


25 


his face showed ghastly through the blood. 
Jonas darted up the steps, closed the show-door 
gently, so as not to disturb the sight-seers or 
frighten Doro, told Maggie to keep her place 
and he would see to Granby, led the way to the 
miserable man’s room, and went to the attic, 
three steps at a leap, to fetch the hymn-seller, 
who had served her time as a sick-nurse. 
Then he quietly stepped into the show, and 
said to Doro, “ Can you spare Whim awhile ; 
I’ve a little time to give him a lesson ” Doro 
nodded to Whim to go off. She was giving a 
very graphic account of Lord Nelson at Tra- 
falgar. Jonas led Whim to his father’s room. 

“ Is my father murdered } ” cried Whim. 

The “ attic ” was sponging off the blood, and 
preparing to cut off the shirt. One man had 
gone for a doctor. The other said : “A gam- 
bling fight. They said he cheated. Police 
carried off the other men, and sent us here with 
him.” 

“ Take warning. This comes of gambling,” 
said Jonas. 

Poor little Doro,” sighed Whim, how she’ll 
take on ! ” 


26 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ We won’t let her know till to-morrow 
noon,” said Jonas; “our old lady here will sit 
up and nurse to-night, and do you slide in after 
breakfast. We’ll let Doro have a good night’s 
sleep, and let him get as much better as possi- 
ble, before she knows.” 

The doctor came and went. The injury was 
not very serious, he said. Whim went to bed. 
The hymn-seller was shut in with the uncon- 
scious gambler. Maggie told Doro that she 
had word that her father was not coming in 
that evening, and so Doro went early and tran- 
quilly to bed. Next morning, Maggie betimes 
carried coffee, eggs, and toast to the nurse, and 
“ hoped she was not very tired.” 

“Tired ! ” said the old lady. “ I could sit up 
night in and night out on such victuals as 
these.” 

Doro quite wondered to see how subdued 
Maggie was that morning. It fell to Jonas, 
about noon, to tell Doro the story. He came 
round to it as well as he could : Her father had 
been struck over the left temple with a bottle 
in a quarrel about cards. 

“ Dead ! ” cried Doro, standing with dilated 


THE COBBLEHS STORY. 


127 


eyes and white face ; dead ! killed in a gam- 
bling-hell ! ” 

“ No ; nor isn’t likely to die. He’ll live to 
do worse.” 

“ No, no ; he may live to repent,” cried 
Doro ; and in a few minutes she was at her 
father’s pillow. Did he greet his child — re- 
spond to her touch } No. His eyes were on 
the ceiling, fierce and set ; his crisped hands 
moved over the bed-clothes. ‘‘You made a 
sign to him ! That card was not marked ! 
You had that in your sleeve ! ” And a volley 
of oaths, and a grasp for money, and an arm 
lifted to ward off a blow. 

Whim, much subdued, listened, and helped 
Doro in the nursing. “ It will have this good 
— a lesson to your brother,” said Jonas to her. 

That night old Jonas watched by Granby, 
and young Jonas for the first time saw Doro 
exhibiting her show. Weary and very pale, 
but resolute, earnest, interested, honest, the 
little show-woman told her historic tales, and 
made the most of Bonaparte and Josephine 
and the infant king of Rome, and General 
Washington, and gallant Israel Putnam. Later, 


28 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


when she had seated herself to watch by her 
father, young Jonas came behind her, put a 
finger under each of her elb«ws, and quietly 
lifted her out of the chair. Now, away to 
bed, young lady. I watch here.” 

“No, no, I will watch with my poor father.” 

“Not a bit of it. I dote on watching; it 
freshens me up. Old Jonas will watch to- 
morrow night. We won’t allow you to watch.” 

Doro felt herself being gently propelled out 
of the room, much as she wheeled about her 
wax. She cried : “ Can’t I do any thing for 
poor father.!^” 

“ Oh, yes ! say your prayers for him, and 
dream he’s better.” 

Then young- Jonas put her into the hall and 
locked the door. Next night old Jonas kept 
watch, and then Maggie and Whim were to 
divide a night. Old Jonas masterfully made 
these arrangements. He saved Doro all he 
could, and he did not spare Whim at all ; he 
meant him to learn his lesson. 

Granby’s hair was shaved close over half 
his head ; a horrible broken wound crossed his 
temple ; he moaned and tossed and raved ; all 


THE COBBLEHS STORY. 


29 


the unquiet of his soul poured forth in the sick- 
room. 

“ I declare,” said the hymn-seller, standing 
between Whim and Jonas, and looking at the 
patient, “ Satan is a most dreadful hard paymas- 
ter, ain’t he, now.!* And it is written, ‘The 
wages of sin is death.’ ” 

“My boy,” said Jonas to Whim, “this is the 
outcome of drinking and gaming. A company 
of gamblers meet together — their aim to cheat 
each other. They drink to steady their nerves 
or to. forget their losses. They fall into mutual 
accusations, and the fire of alcohol in their 
blood drives them to such murderous assaults. 
Look you, my lad, if you sow such seed, you’ll 
reap such harvest.” 


CHAPTER VIL 


A WAX-WORK SHOW. 

T~ARUNKENNESS is not the only vice which 
turns and rends its victim, and yet the 
victim says in his besotted folly, “ I will seek it 
yet again.” Granby lay feverish and distressed 
in his bed for a fortnight, raving on the verge 
of brain-fever ; another week he sat in his easy- 
chair in a dressing-gown and slippers, the one 
the work of his dead wife, the other of Doro. 
He never thought of either of these devoted 
ones when he put these comforts on ; he took 
slippers and dressing-gowns as his natural right ; 
also easy-chairs, beef-tea, poached eggs, and 
any incidental luxuries of the season. He 
made as much ado about his health, and de- 
manded as much attention, as if he had been 
the most valuable man in creation. At first 
Maggie believed he was going to die, and 
spared no pains in nursing him — she wanted 
to have a clear conscience in his behalf when 
130 


A WAX-WORJC SHOW. 


13 


he was only a memory. When she found him 
getting well, and more exigent than ever, she 
was disgusted. Whim showed considerable 
aptitude at nursing during the first two weeks. 
The third week Granby was able to talk, and 
apparently took a fancy to Whim. He poured 
forth “ tales of the den.” 

‘*Say, Doro,” said Whim at the tea-table one 
evenin'g, father was telling me about a man 
who sat down with his last dollar to play at 
rouge et noir^ and he won forty thousand dollars 
in two hours ! Wasn’t that wonderful, to get 
rich in part of an evening.? Considerable ex- 
citement in living just on the edge of a fortune, 
that way ! Nothing slow about that.” 

What good of getting a fortune one even- 
ing if you lose it the next .?” 

“ Oh, one need not. One could make his 
money, and go off and live on it, never playing 
any more.” 

‘^But one never does; having made the 
thousands they crave the millions, and so go 
on gaming.” 

*'You see it is such an easy way to make 
money ! ” 


132 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


“ What kind of money is it ? That forty 
thousand dollars, if the story were true, was not 
honestly gained nor fairly lost — it was loaded 
with curses, tears, misery. Some one’s heart 
was broken for it, as our mother’s was. The 
one that lost it betrayed some trust, beggared 
his family, or ruined a ward. I have heard of 
a young man that won ten thousand in a night 
from another young man who was a clerk. The 
clerk played with money that did not belong to 
him. When it was lost he blew out his brains. 
At the news his sister went insane. His 
poor mother, whose support he had been, went 
to the almshouse, and died there. Don’t you 
think he must have been a very hard-hearted 
person who could enjoy money with such mis- 
ery upon it V 

That was bad, but all money don’t have 
such a story. Father says there are lots of 
real rich men, here in the city, who don’t know 
what to do with their money, and go and lose 
it just to amuse themselves ; and their losing 
what they don’t mind gives a living to poorer 
men.” 

“ One of those rich men in a year’s gaming 


*1 

A WAX- WORK SNOW. 133 

threw away a hundred thousand dollars, all the 
property of three little orphans left by his 
sister. When the money was gone he ran 
away, and the three beggared children all 
scattered in families who adopted them out of 
charity. Yesterday I read of a poor lady who 
went mad and killed herself and two little chil- 
dren, because her husband, who had been 
gambling, stole funds out of a bank where he 
was cashier, and ran away from the country, 
leaving her poor, disgraced, and abandoned.” 

“You seem to have lots of horrid stories 
about it, Doro.” 

“ I have suffered so much from gambling. 
Whim, that naturally I notice all that is in the 
papers about it.” 

“ But the papers don’t put in the good side.” 

“ There is no good side to drink or cards.” 

“ Why, father was telling me about one of 
the nicest men in the city here — keeps car- 
riage, dogs, horses ; gives elegant dinners ; 
awfully friendly man ; has his house full 
of music, pictures, flowers — father says he’ll 
take me there some time ; he knows how to 
play just right, just enough to make him a 


% 


134 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


handsome income. It is a business, a science, 
requiring skill, cool nerves, a steady hand. 
Father says that’s what he lacks ; but I don’t.” 

“ Did father tell you what gambling had done 
for him } ” 

“Well, he said he’d not been so very lucky.” 

“What kind of a business is it that don’t 
give a man one thing but his clothes ? Does 
father provide board, or washing, or one thing 
for himself.^ There was a time when, instead 
of bringing his family any support, he used up 
all the show made, and left us hungry and in 
debt.” 

“ He says he hasn’t been lucky ; he’s too 
nervous.” 

“ Lucky, Whim ! Let me tell you ; he 
married our mother because he thought our 
grandfather was rich. They did not know he 
played, but in two years he had ruined our 
grandfather. We came to this country, and 
in a year he had gambled and drunk eight thou- 
sand dollars, all that our poor mother had, and 
we were beggars. I remember crying of hun- 
ger and cold. Mother sewed and did all she 
could. She finally lived up in the attic, where 


A WAX-WORK SHOW. 


135 


our old hymn-seller does. Her father was 
dead ; her uncle would only help her if she 
would leave father and go back to England. 
An old Frenchman, who owned the wax and fur- 
niture that we have now, got very sick, and 
mother, out of kindness, began to wait on him. 
He then asked her to exhibit the show and 
nurse him, as he got paralyzed. She hired 
Maggie and did so. He lived two years, and 
died, leaving mother the wax and furniture and 
his lease — it was for our mother’s use, but it 
was really left me, and he made Jonas and 
another man guardians or trustees for it, so it 
could not be taken from me. It is by this we 
live. Whim, by a show left us, when we were 
beggars, by a stranger; and ruin and heart- 
break and the loss of thousands of dollars are 
all our father has made by gaming.” 

“Yes; he said he’d been unlucky,” said 
Whim. 

Doro went down to Jonas’ shop. Young 
Jonas was there. He was mending a knap- 
sack, as next day he started out for a geological 
tour along the coast with some gentlemen. 
Doro went up to him, and, in her eager, childish 


136 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


way, cried, “ I want you to do something for 
me ! ” 

“With all my heart,” said young Jonas. 

“Take Whim with you to-morrow, and keep 
him till the Conservatory opens. Get him 
away from father, who is trying to make him a 
gambler. Whim is strong ; he can walk. Til 
pay all his expenses ; he will help you and do 
whatever you tell him — only take him away,” 
and she poured forth the stories and beguilings 
the innocent Whim had repeated to her. 

“ He certainly must go away,” said old 
Jonas. 

“Yes, we’ll take him,” said the other Jonas, 
“and we’ll get him well primed and prejudiced 
against gambling and drink.” 

“ Don’t tell him I asked you to take him ; 
just invite him.” 

Accordingly, before eight. Whim came run- 
ning into the show with his violin in his hand, 
and crying, “ Oh, Doro, Jonas has asked me to 
go on his tramp with him. It would be such a 
lark ! ” 

“ I’d go, by all means,” said Doro, tranquilly. 

“And the music — could you do without 


A WAX- WORK SHOW. 


137 


“ You know you have taught me to play 
pretty fairly lately. Til do the music, Whim, if 
you want to go.” 

She did not tell him not to tell his father, but 
she sent him to bed without disturbing the in- 
valid that night, and before Granby senior’s 
eleven o’clock breakfast. Junior Granby was 
cutting all sorts of antics, as, emancipated from 
the city, he walked along the hills. Not more 
difference was there between the fresh country 
ways, the pure free air, the glorious liberty of 
the rural districts, and the hot, dirty, miasma- 
laden air of the narrow city courts, than there 
was between that narrow, greedy, unloving, 
chance-poisoned mind of his father, and the 
wide views, the generous instincts, the learning, 
the simplicity, the honesty of his present com- 
rades. These were men, every inch of them. 
Whim had got into better surroundings, and he 
began to breathe with full lungs morally and 
physically. Meantime Doro’s face brightened 
and her heart sang. Granby senior asked for his 
son. He had wrought very successfully for 
two days with the credulous boy. He wished 
to continue the work. By every lure of flat- 


38 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


tery, of aroused avarice, of curiosity, of 
romance, of excitement, he wished to decoy 
this boy to the gambler’s fatal hell. The man’s 
heart was so consumed by his vice that he had 
no compassion for this frank, buoyant, credu- 
lous spirit falling his prey — as a dove in a 
serpent’s coils. Gamesters have many singular 
superstitions. They attach power or fatality to 
certain numbers or repetitions of the same ; 
they have dream-numbers. Granby had a fixed 
delusion about the value in a game of a young 
and innocent boy as a “luck-bringer.” He was 
ready to offer his only son as a holocaust on the 
altar of his own deadly passion. 

“ Where is Whim ? ” he demanded, fretfully. 

‘‘Whim has gone off on a little tour,” said 
Doro, brightly. “ He has been working hard 
all summer, and he had a nice invitation, 
which will give him just what he needs before 
he works hard all winter.” 

“ But I need Whim ! ” 

“ I’ll try and wait on you so well, you’ll not 
miss him, father.” 

“ But what right had you or he to make 
arrangements without consulting me, miss ? ” 


A WAX- WORK SHOW. 


139 


“You have never taken any interest in our 
arrangements, father.” 

“ But I have a right to, and I will ! I want 
Whim.” 

“Try me instead. Shall I sing to you, or 
read to you } ” 

“ No ; I don’t want you around me. You 
know too much.” 

“ I’ll forget all I know, if you’ll let me. I 
only remember when I must for Whim’s sake.” 

“ Where is the money I had in my trousers 
pockets when I was brought home 1 Have you 
used it } ” 

“ I never use that kind of money ; my hands 
are clean,” said Doro, with sudden pride, 
stretching forth her little hands. “ I did not 
touch it or count it. I pinned your pockets 
up while I cleaned the clothes, and they are 
pinned yet.” 

“ Are my clothes all in order } ” 

“Yes, sir; I had the tailor mend your coat.” 

“ Well, I’m going out as quick as I can. I 
won’t stay mewed up here. No excitement — 
all so deadly slow. Maggie growling like a 
cross chained dog in the kitchen ; you singing 


140 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


psalms or some such horrors ; that old witch 
from the attic croaking about eternity and 
spiritual railroads and dying young men ; and 
that cobbler, that is guardian of your property, 
and hand in glove with you to dishonor arTd 
cheat your father, coming up here with his 
tongue like a file. I’ll go out in a week, if I 
die for it. But how can I go with my head in 
this case — shaved, one half of it, as bare as 
my hand.^ You had that done out of ugliness.” 

“ It was done by the doctor, before I knew 
you were hurt.” 

“Well, I ought to have a wig — a wig of 
handsome black curled hair like my own ; no 
poor trash to make a guy out of me.” 

“It would cost thirty dollars.” 

“ Suppose it would. Hand it over, if you 
have any respect or gratitude for your father.” 

Try as hard as she could, it was impossible 
that Doro should have either of these emotions 
toward this wretched man. She contented her- 
self with saying, “ I really have not that much 
money for it, father.” 

Certainly she could not offer up the long- 
saved amount of Whim’s year’s schooling to 


A WAX-IVORIC SHOW. 


I4I 

satisfy the cormorant of this man’s horrible 
vanity. 

“ Beg it, borrow it ; take a few nights’ earn- 
ings.” 

“All are gone before they come, father. 
I have thought of such a nice way. I will 
make a silk or velvet cap, just to fit your head, 
and ril sew all along one side the curls that 
were cut off ; so when the cap is on your head 
it will look alike all round, and soon your hair 
will grow.” 

Granby fought against this delectable scheme, 
but finally yielded. He allowed her to sit in 
his room while she made the cap, and he 'inter- 
fered and quarrelled with every cut and stitch. 
That done, he forbade her the premises, declar- 
ing that she knew too much, was obstinate and 
his enemy, and he couldn’t bear the sight of 
her. 

Two or three of his friends came to see him 
that third week, friends that filled Doro with 
terror. One of them brought wine, and made 
her father much worse. Doro determined he 
should not get in again. A second, seeing 
the little maid in the hall, impertinently kissed 


142 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


her, but his further progress in the house was 
interrupted by Jonas, who followed him in, and, 
seizing him with the brawny hands which had 
drawn so many waxed cords and hammered so 
many stiff soles, he flung him head over heels 
into the middle of the street. A third reck- 
lessly walking into the kitchen and giving 
Maggie orders about “grilled bones, deviled 
kidneys, and eggnog,” and calling Doro 
“ Hebe ” and requesting her to favor him 
by tasting his bottle of wine, Maggie found 
herself so deserted by patience that she flung 
first her dishcloth and then the pan of water 
at the invader of her dominions, and the enemy, 
going home to change his clothes, did not return. 

After such wars, it was surely a relief when 
Granby dressed himself in his renovated clothes, 
put on a superior specimen of Maggie’s clear- 
starching, wore the cap over which Doro had 
been obliged to shed so many tears, and de- 
parted for his haunts without a word of thanks 
to any one for the trouble taken for him. 

Maggie relieved her mind by entering upon 
a general house-cleaning ; she probably liked 
house-cleaning, as it gave her so large occasion 


A WAX- WORK SHOW. 


143 


for grumbling. Doro offered to help her, but 
was informed that “she hated people round.” 
She had no patience with bungling; she would 
never be a lady if she allowed herself at such 
low work. All she wanted was leave to clean 
the house after such a tumult. And Maggie 
put her hands on her hips, and defiantly shot 
out her two under teeth over her upper lip, and 
brought a very hideous appearance into the 
ruins of her beauty. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


MISS HARRISON. 

T^ORO took advantage of her banishment 
from the rest of the apartment to put her 
wax in fresh order. She was happy among her 
wax people. She talked to them, and they 
never reproached or contradicted her, they 
gave her occupation, they gained her her liv- 
ing. The best memories of her childhood be- 
longed to them. The old Frenchman, their 
former owner, had loved them, and lived so 
long among them that they seemed real people 
to him. He had taught Doro their histories. 
She had never had dolls ; but, as a child, these 
wax figures were her dolls; with them she 
sewed, with them she played. Now they 
afforded range for imagination, invention. Not 
that she invented stories for them ; she would 
have thought that dishonesty to the public ; 
but she took figures that were too familiar, re- 
grouped, redressed, repainted them, and so had 


144 


M/SS HARRISON. 


145 


new tales to tell. Now that Whim was safe, 
and her mind was reacting from the depression 
occasioned by her unhappy father, the little 
show-woman returned to her affairs with great 
interest. She tied up her head, and put on a 
big apron, got her work-box, paints, wax, dus- 
ters, and a great hamper of remnants of silk, 
lace, lawn, tulle, ribbon, bought wholesale at 
an auction, and resolved to have something 
new in her show. Isabella of France, the 
“Child Bride” of Richard II., had figured for 
some time in the show, dressed in red satin 
and Roman pearls, with a long blue train, a 
gilt paper crown, and a quantity of gold lace. 
“ We’ve had enough of you, miss,” said Doro. 
“ I’m tired of telling how your hand was pledge 
of peace after twenty-eight years’ war. I’ll 
make a nicer child of you. You shall turn 
into little Elizabeth of England, who died a 
prisoner, sitting with her Bible in her lap, and 
thinking of the last words of her father, whose 
head was cut off'. That will be a very pathetic 
story. I’ll braid this black wig of yours. Miss 
Isabella, and put on you a little lace cap to 
soften you down ; I’ll paint you a little paler. 


46 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Why, how sweet you are going to look in this 
little black gown of mine, my mourning for 
my poor mother, when I should have had cour- 
age to be glad she was gone to heaven ! Here 
are frills for your wrists, and you may have this 
string of pearls around your neck, lest people 
think you are not truly a princess. Your joints 
are some stiff from long standing. A little 
kerosene oil will limber them so you can sit 
down in your chair. I hope it isn’t wicked to 
put a Bible in a show. I’ll try and say some- 
thing good about it. There, now, you are done 
over, and you are sweet, and no mistake. 
Come here, Joan of Arc, and Lady Jane Grey, 
and Anne Boleyn, and Maria Louisa — people 
are wearying of you, my dears, and so am I.” 
She wheeled the figures out of line, and looked 
at them intently. Then she clapped her hands. 

I will have Tennyson’s ‘ Dream of Fair 
Women.’ Joan of Arc, I’ll put pegs under 
you, and you shall be Jephthah’s daugh- 
ter ; and you, simpering Maria Louisa, may be 
‘ that Rosamond whom men call Lair ’ ; and 
Josephine, step forward for ‘Cleopatra.’ You 
were as crazy after admiration as ever that 


MISS HARRISON. 


147 


‘ swarthy queen ’ who knew how to raise her 
‘eyes and fill with light the interval of sound.’ 
For my part, I don’t see how any of you queens 
and beauties could have craved so to be ad- 
mired and flattered and stared at. I hardly 
think it is decent, myself. You have much to 
answer for. I like Vashti better; she wouldn’t 
come to be stared at. I declare. I’ll have a 
Vashti! Elizabeth Tudor, how would you like 
to go back a few thousand years, and be the 
great queen of Media and Persia.? You shall, 
my dear. Where is rny Tennyson, that I drew 
from the Library .? I must see how to dress 
these fair women. Cleopatra, you are sitting 
on a ‘crimson scarf unrolled.’ I can make that 
out of this red petticoat and gold lace of the 
late Isabella of France. I shall have to go to 
the Public Library and see if I can find out 
.something of the way Vashti was likely to be 
dressed. Iphigenia, you shall look lovely, even 
prettier than when you were Lady Jane Grey. 
I shall comb out your yellow hair, and bind it 
with a fillet, and drape you in white with a 
blue border, and Queen Elizabeth’s big belt- 
buckle shall be a clasp for your shoulder^ and 


148 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


your shoes shall be blue. I like Greek drapery 
myself. I think it is enough nicer than that 
train and ruff and stomacher and petticoat 
that the royal Miss Tudor wore. Elizabeth 
-Tudor, are you not glad of the change ? You 
have been for ages stepping over Raleigh’s 
cloak. I’m sure his back is almost past 
straightening, but he has to come upright and 
be Edward the Sixth. He’ll make a very good 
story, poor little king ! ” 

“ Here’s a lady says she’s your Sunday-school 
teacher ! ” cried Maggie, thrusting in at the 
door a head crowned with a huge yellow cam- 
bric sweeping-cap, like a rising sun. 

“ Oh, Miss Harrison ! Come in, if you don’t 
mind the wax, please.” 

Thus Doro, leading in her delinquent teacher. 

Miss Harrison had “been away all summer.” 
She had often assured herself, her parson, the 
superintendent, that she had “ no gifts for visit- 
ing the poor, was as afraid as death of tenement- 
houses, was struck dumb if she tried to talk to 
that kind of folks,” and so on. But, finding 
that her attentive and golden-haired pupil was 
a heroine in her way, had a wonderfully gifted 


MISS HARRISON. 


149 


little brother, was part of a modest little 
romance, and could make marvels in white 
wax, which Miss Harrison’s dearest friends 
pronounced “ too sweet for any thing,” Miss 
Harrison had boldly ventured so far as 97 
Andover street, and found it not a disreputable 
place, though truly inferior to Commonwealth 
Avenue. Miss Harrison was only a girl, and 
she had some corners of her nature unspoiled 
by her foolish reading, and trifling, pleasure-pur- 
suing life. These corners were straightway in- 
vaded by Doro and her wax. Doro took her 
teacher’s little gloved hand. 

Shall I introduce you to my wax.? You 
recognize Napoleon, and Columbus, and Fer- 
dinand of Aragon, and Robespierre, and the 
little princes, and Queen Victoria .? I am 
making up my mind to change them all. 
Elizabeth is to be Vashti.” 

*‘Vashti! Oh, lovely. We had some tab- 
leaux at the mountains, and I was Vashti,” 
cried Miss Harrison. 

^‘Then you know how to dress her! Do 
please tell me, and do you think any of these 
things will do to make over .? I can not afford 


ISO IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

to buy much in working up costumes, but I 
can run after some cheap satin.” 

Let us look over what you have ! ” cried 
Miss Harrison, in a costuming frenzy at once. 

I can tell you exactly. Suppose I stay and 
help ! you — are there — any — people here that 
would — disturb us } ” 

Doro hailed Miss Harrison’s suggestion with 
great joy. “No, indeed; no one but old 
Maggie and me. Whim is off on a trip. My 
father won’t come in till midnight. Would 
you stay ? It would be so nice of you ! ” 

Miss Harrison pulled off her hat and gloves, 
and entered with her whole soul into the recon- 
struction of the wax-work show. She was 
deeply interested in seeing Doro strip the 
figures, alter their joints, wheel them into new 
places, mend little defects in their complexions, 
and touch up eyebrows and lips with paint. 
“If I could only make their eyes stare less,” 
said Doro ; “ if you’ll excuse me. I’ll go for 
some more scissors, and I need a hammer 
and tacks. Please, may I bring you one of 
my white aprons ? ” She went out, and was 
waylaid by Maggie : 


M/SS HARRISON. 


151 

“ That’s a real true lady in there. Did you 
notice the long feather in her hat, and the 
proud way she held her head, and the high 
heels on her boots, and how she walked } ” 

“ No, but she is real kind, and is going to 
help me fix my wax. I am going to do it 
all over.” 

“ If she helps, you may be sure it will be 
done. She knows what’s what. That silk 
of hers never cost less than four dollars a 
yard. I’ll tell you what I’ll do : if she stays 
I’ll make you up a real stylish little lunch — 
chocolate and biscuits and sandwiches and a 
salad, and bring them into the show-room to 
you. I like to entertain gentry.” 

Truth is, poor Maggie was an unmitigated 
snob. 

Doro returned to her wax much overbur- 
dened by a sense of Miss Harrison’s fine 
clothes and social state, but this adumbration 
of Commonwealth Avenue thinned away in the 
sunshine of Miss Harrison’s smiles. Miss Har- 
rison had grown up as soon as she got out of 
the nursery. She had had no long, careless 
childhood playing with dolls and dishes. She 


152 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


had become immediately a little lady, with her 
little beaux and her little tasselled cards of 
engagements for her dances. It was a new 
experience to her to sit down all day to dress 
dolls. She had only done that once a year — 
for the Sunday-school Christmas tree. Doro 
herself did not rival Miss Harrison in enthu- 
siasm. They worked and lunched and worked 
again. 

A lady like you,” said Doro to Miss Har- 
rison, “can do much good. You are rich, and 
can give so much to the poor, and you have 
time, and can visit them : and you are wise 
and can teach them, and set a good example, 
and teach in Sunday-school. Now, I like to be 
good, and do good, but there is so little I can 
do. All I can do must be done in wax. It is 
such a little way. Yet, as it is, I want to make 
my show a moral lesson. That is why I have 
Princess Elizabeth with her Bible, and little 
King Edward the Sixth. Pd like something 
more striking. Do you think you would know 
how to make a Satan ? ” 

“To make Satan^ my dear child!” cried Miss 
Harrison, 


MISS HARRISON. 


53 


“Yes, I have thought, not too horrid, but 
enough to tell who he was. A pair of small 
horns in his wig, and a tail perhaps.” 

“ Whatever do you mean } ” 

“And very long moustaches, twisted up to 
his eyes,” continued Doro. “ I would like to 
make in wax a copy of a picture I saw in the 
library — Satan playing with a young man for 
his soul. There is a little table with wine, 
cards, and dice, you know, and Satan is play- 
ing to win with that foolish young man, and 
the guardian angel is turning away so discour- 
aged. I think it might be a good moral lesson.” 

“ Let us make it, by all means,” cried the 
enthusiastic Miss Harrison ; “ put a good bit 
of brick-dust colored paint on Satan’s face, and 
if you can find something to dress that young 
man in the corner up in a toga for a young 
Brutus, you could have that Continental blue 
coat and knee breeches for your Satan, and Fm 
sure you can make a very nice copy of the 
picture, if it must be done in wax.” 

By five o’clock the show was nearly all re- 
constructed. The newly dressed figures looked 
very impressive, and Miss Harrison felt as if 


154 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


she had been reviewing a course in history and 
general literature, as Doro talked over her wax. 
She regretted that it was time to go home. 

Good-by,” she said ; “ you are quite the dear- 
est little thing I ever saw in my life, and I don’t 
know when I have enjoyed a day so much. I 
shall bring a whole crowd to your show next 
week, to see what can be done in wax.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


whim’s inheritance. 

TT was a Sabbath morning in early Septem- 
ber, and August seemed to have strayed 
back into the city. Maggie sat on the lobby 
door-sill. She had conceded none of her multi- 
tudinous petticoats to the stress of tempera- 
ture, but her calico sack was unfastened at the 
throat, and her hair pushed back from her 
flushed face. She fanned herself with a huge 
and ragged palm-leaf fan, and muttered like low 
thunder her animadversions concerning the 
weather. To her came the hymn-seller, hop- 
ping down the stairs like a little bird. “Are 
you going to church to-day. Mistress Maggie ? ” 
“Not I. It is too hot to stay home, let alone 
to go to church. The weather is not what it 
used to be when I was young.” 

“ When I was young,” said the hymn-seller, “ I 
lived in the country, and we did have Sundays 
there, I assure you. I mind the hymns we used 

155 


156 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


to sing Sunday morning — ‘ Welcome, sweet day 
of rest, That saw the Lord arise,' and ^ Again 
the day returns of sacred rest.’ Dear me, the 
very cows and horses and fowls had a sort of 
stillness for Sunday ! The sunshine lay along 
the fields, quiet and soft, the brooks ran stilly 
like, the winds were not so free as other days, 
the flowers were brighter and I thought they 
smelled sweeter, and the sound of the church- 
bells came up along the hills like the notes of 
a hymn. Then we all set off for church, going 
slowly along the road-sides, carrying Bible and 
hymn-book in one hand, and a handkerchief 
with some seed-cakes rolled up in it in the 
other. Most often we took a sprig of dill or 
fennel to nibble, if we got sleepy in church, and 
a piece of rosemary to smell to ; my mother 
called that. ‘herb-o’-grace.’ Feverfew was also 
a great favorite on Sunday, and southernwood 
as well. We all had them in our gardens. 
The church had square pews, with high sides, 
and when we were small we had to sit up and 
hold our heads back to get a sight of the par- 
son, high up against the wall, in a little box 
pulpit. The windows and doors were open. 


WHUPS INHERITANCE. 


157 


We saw the willow-trees waving like mourning- 
veils over the graves in the church-yard ; the 
bees came swinging in and went out again ; we 
youngsters used to watch, with a sort of terror 
and joy, the wasps darting about close to the 
bald head of the leading deacon ; if a bird or a 
butterfly came in, we were happy. Once a 
swallow came sweeping in and lit on the com- 
munion-table, and our preacher quoted that bit 
of the psalm, ‘Yea, the sparrow hath found an 
house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where 
she may lay her young, even thine altars, 
O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.' 
The sermon was two hours long, and then we 
had a little over half an hour, when we went 
out into the grave-yard and ate our seed-cakes 
and talked to our neighbors, and then we went 
back and had a short Sunday-school and an- 
other long sermon. But there wasn’t any 
more going to sleep in church those days 
than there is now — not so much, maybe, for 
the parsons gave their attention then to preach- 
ing rousing doctrines.” 

“Nothing is as good as it used to be,” 
groaned Maggie. “ I am not so good myself 


158 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


as I used to be. In the words of a book I used 
to own, ‘ I was once a fair and flourishing 
professor,’ but I am far from either fair or 
flourishing now. But no one could be good 
contending with such a man as her father — 
what with his shirts and hot coffee, late and 
strong, he is completely carbolic,” which ad- 
jective was, no doubt, recklessly flung away in 
lieu of diabolical. 

It was just after this hot Sabbath that Whim 
came home tanned, stout, happy, to enter the 
Conservatory. Doro took him up to the 
director, paid the bill, and purchased a violin 
for school work, and expressed her desire that 
Whim should be kept closely at his studies, 
and converted into a “first violin” as soon as 
possible. She was such a tender, earnest, pa- 
thetic little mother, leading about this big, 
effervescent, inquisitive boy, who was likely 
to fall into a great deal of mischief just out 
of curiosity to know what it was, that the 
director vowed to himself to make a specialty 
of Whim for Doro’s sake. That was one care 
off Doro’s mind. Another source of comfort 
was that the show began to look up. It had a 


IV///M*S INHERITANCE, 


59 


new lease of popularity. It was a new play- 
thing to Miss Harrison. No. 97 Andover 
street smacked of a safe Bohemianism which 
lent a flavor to the conservative existence of 
Commonwealth Avenue ; Miss Harrison venti- 
lated her behind-the-scenes wisdom in show- 
life. Doro received a note asking her to open 
the show four Saturday afternoons, so that the 
Sunday-school infant-class could be brought in 
four divisions to see it. Then came a request 
to open her doors one evening at half-past six, 
so that Miss Harrison and a number of friends 
-'-about twenty — could have a quasi private 
exhibition. Maggie joyfully received a ten- 
dollar bill as fee from that party, and assured 
herself “ that the show’s fortune was made, and 
it was easy to tell real quality — they wore 
such elegant clothes.” Indeed, the clothes 
attracted her so much that with her hands on 
her hips, and her two lower teeth shot out over 
her naturally well cut upper lip, she stood in 
the door-way and looked at the visitors all the 
time they looked at the wax. 

Doro, doing her best to exhibit to these 
elegant pleasure-seekers, found herself some- 


i6o 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


what nonplussed by Miss Harrison’s zeal to 
tell what she knew about wax. Thus: — 

Doro : “This, ladies and gentlemen, is Mar- 
cus Junius Brutus, born in 85 before Christ, 
died in 42. He was a great student, and stood 
well in his day ; and because he took chief part 
in the killing of Caesar, he has been called a 
patriot and a great man. It seems to me that 
it is very much against him that he joined 
friendship with Pompey, when his father had 
been killed by Pompey’s order. I think, too, it 
was wicked in him to divorce his wife for the 
sake of getting political power by marrying the 
daughter of Cato. It looks very wrong to me 
that when Caesar had been generous and for- 
giving to him, he should conspire to kill him 
by treachery, and he surely made a very bad 
end when he killed himself after a defeat in 
battle. Suicide is the end of a coward, and it 
leaves the soul without hope.” 

Miss Harrisoji : “ Makes a real good Brutus, 
don’t he ? He was Israel Putman before, with 
a wig, a cocked hat, and that blue coat and 
breeches with brass buttons, that Satan has 
on, over there by the other wall. We wanted 


WHIM'S INHERITANCE. l6l 

the blue clothes for Satan, so we took off 
Putman’s wig, and put black hair on him, 
with an olive wreath to make him look classic, 
and made him that toga and pair of sandals.” 

This disquisition from Miss Harrison discon- 
tented Doro. It was one thing to dress up her 
wax, but quite another to show it off. When it 
stood decorous, quite majestic under the gas- 
light, she believed in it. She took Brutus 
(M. J.) where and as she found him for ex- 
hibition, and was, for the time being, oblivious 
that he had figured as Israel Putman, and had 
killed a wolf and not Caesar. The long series 
of metamorphoses and historical metempsy- 
choses of her wax figures faded from her 
mind when she met them in order for ex- 
hibition. In the day-time, arranging her show, 
she was of the school of Pythagoras ; that work 
completed, she returned to modern orthodoxy, 
and decreed to each individual his particular 
identity. However, if Miss Harrison and her 
comments were somewhat subversive of the 
dignity of the show, one way and another, 
they brought in considerable money, and 
that was good in Whim’s education. Whim 


1 62 m BLACK AND GOLD. 

was fulfilling the prophesies of Jonas — at first 
he was mad over his new pursuits ; he desired 
neither to eat nor sleep ; he talked music, he 
thought music, then, following the omnipresent 
law of the pendulum, his zeal rebounded toward 
indifference, he became weary of effort and 
thought he did well enough. 

“There’s a fellow up to the Conservatory 
who has a nice time of it,” said Whim to Doro. 
“ I wish I was in his boots. He studies only 
as much as he likes, just because he likes ; he 
don’t need to work to make a living ; he won’t 
have to give concerts or take pupils. He is a 
German; he takes what he clavier — that 
means piano. His uncle left him an inheri- 
tance ; he is an heir ; you’d better believe I 
wish I was.” 

“You have an inheritance, Whim,” said 
Doro. It was Sunday night. Doro was lying 
on the little hard hair-cloth lounge, and Whim 
was sitting on the floor beside her. 

“I’d like to know what. I’m sure,” said 
Whim, testily. 

“Well, in the first place, your violin. Per- 
haps there is not such another violin in Amer- 


WHIM'S INHERITANCE. 1 63 

ica. If you are able to bring great skill and 
great genius to bear on your bow, that violin 
can make you famous.” 

“Yes, there’s the violin,” admitted Whim. 

“And, then, there is your musical genius. 
That’s an inheritance worth more than a big 
fortune; for the fortune may be lost, but the 
genius is still yours, and can be made more 
splendid by labor. That genius came to you 
from your great-grandfather and grandfather, 
just as your name, Henry Whimper, did. Do 
you find many pupils at the Conservatory who 
have more natural gift than you } ” 

“ No,” said Whim ; “they all say that I have 
the best genius there.” 

“ And that should make you more and more 
industrious. Whim. The diamond is the most 
valuable of gems, but it needs the most and 
hardest cutting and polishing to make it all it 
should be. And now. Whim, you have another 
inheritance, which I don’t like to talk about ; 
and yet I must, to save you from trouble — an 
inheritance which you got from poor father, 
Whim.” 

“ As what } ” asked the boy. 


164 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

I’m afraid — in the first place, a great hate 
of hard work.” 

Oh, well — work — why, who likes work ? ” 
“ When work is seen to be the only proper 
means to goodness and greatness and useful- 
ness, we should love it for that. Whim. Then, 
too, God bids us work ; he objects to idlers, 
and work keeps us out of wickedness ; work we 
owe to God, to ourselves, to others. Those 
who hate honest work, Whim, usually have a 
craving for money got without working. The 
Scripture don’t believe in that ; it says : ‘ If 
any will not work, neither shall he eat ' ; and 
when we want money that shall come like rain 
falling out of the sky, and not like gold dug up 
out of the earth, then we are apt to try to get 
it in unfair ways — by games of chance or by 
cheating. And I want to speak to you of that. 
Whim. I see you have a great deal of tempta- 
tion toward chances and lotteries, and such 
ways of getting things, and poor father has 
tried to lead you astray in those ways, and you 
must fight and pray. Whim, against that part 
of your inheritance, the liking that is in your 
blood for gaming, my poor dear boy — and for 
wine too, I fear.” 


WHIM'S INHERITANCE. 1 65 

Whim was silent. He was considering 
whether this was so. 

Doro was lost in a painful musing. Here 
was Whim, dowered with beauty, genius, and 
an inborn vice : how would the fatal inheritance 
end ? Finally, Whim said : — 

“ There is, I suppose, something amusing 
and exciting in gaming — but because a man 
wants to get a little entertainment out of it, he 
need not get absorbed in it, or be a cheat, and 
disgrace or ruin himself.” 

As the man who pleads his right to moder- 
ate drinking often, even usually, ends by being 
a drunkard, so he who games a little for fun 
is apt to end by being a gamester, and ruined. 
Both drunkenness and gaming are roads to 
eternal ruin. The Bible says no drunkard 
can inherit the kingdom of God — so the 
gamester cuts himself off from heaven. It is 
true they might repent and be forgiven, for 
the blood of Jesus Christ can cleanse from 
all sin, but these vices put their victims in 
a frenzied state, where they will neither ask 
for nor accept the mercy of God. The gam- 
bler lives on the ruin of his fellows, and per- 


66 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


ishes in his own. Suicide results more often 
from gaming than from any other vice, and 
suicide shuts the door of hope to the soul. 
Gambling, Whim, is social ruin ; it is moral 
ruin ; it is physical ruin ; it is spiritual ruin. So 
is drinking. Now, see how much temptation 
there is every where toward gambling and drink, 
and I see that you are naturally vulnerable to 
these temptations, and so I wish you would fear 
for yourself, and keep watch, and pray God 
to deliver you from temptation ; and if you do 
that, dear Whim, you can not then deliberately 
put yourself right in the way of it. Then, too, 
one way of keeping out of temptation is to be 
active in honest work, and I think God has 
given you your love of music as a safeguard, 
if you will have a passion for it and work at it 
honestly.” 

“ Do you know,” said Whim, “ sometimes I 
envy people who do not have to work ? Per- 
haps I would get just as must happiness and 
less vexation out of music if I were rich and 
only studied for pleasure. I think lords and 
millionnaires are very lucky people.” 

They are in places of greater temptation, of 


WHIM'S lA^HESITANCE. 1 6 / 

greater responsibility, and have more to answer 
to God for. If you read the history of the 
eighteenth century, you will see how many 
princes and nobles, and men who might have 
been great and good, led ruined lives, and died 
hopeless, shameless deaths, because they had 
lived only to amuse themselves, and tried to 
amuse themselves in gaming and drinking. 
God says all we are brethren ; he sets us in 
this world to live for others as well as for our- 
selves. That man lives highest who lives least 
for himself and most for God and his neighbors. 
God says that every man should seek another’s 
good ; we are to owe no man any thing but love ; 
we are, with regard to living, to ^work every 
one with quietness, and eat our own bread,’ and, 
instead of envying and grieving at the good of 
our neighbor, we are to do good and lend, hop- 
ing for nothing again. All extortioners and 
unjust and robbers and liars have no part in 
the Holy City. When men stand before God 
for judgment according to their works, what 
will the works of the gamester be, on which his 
record is made } The Book of Proverbs tells us 
that those who are greedy of gain lie in ‘ wait 


1 68 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

for their own blood ’ ; and ‘lurk privily for their 
own lives.’ The man who means to live idly 
on the gain he makes by winning his neigh- 
bor’s money is ‘devising evil against his neigh- 
bor.’ Could any thing be more unlike the law 
of God, that we are to do good as we have 
opportunity, do as we would be done by, love 
as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous ! Oh, 
Whim ! gamblers ‘ eat the bread of wickedness, 
and drink the wine of violence,’ and sleep not 
unless they have done mischief.” 

Doro was afraid that Whim was becoming 
idle, and she feared if he were idle his thoughts 
and his tastes would drift into evil channels. 
Jonas made it his duty to go to the director 
and have a talk about Whim. The chain of 
sequences lengthening, the director confided 
the story of Whim and Doro to a friend, who 
was visiting him, a Swiss cornetist of fame. 
The Swiss made a pilgrimage to a top-story 
class-room, where Whim was alone, his violin 
lying on a table before him, his arms folded, 
his head bent in a reverie ; he was fond of idle 
dreaming. 

“ What, doing nothing ! ” said the visitor. 


fV///M’S INIIEKITANCE. 


169 


I have learned my lesson,” said Whim. 

So ! How extraordinary ! But no, you 
mistake ; one has never learned his lesson, 
because one has never got out of a lesson all 
that may be got out of it.” 

“I assure you, sir, I am quite perfect in 
mine; I am always prepared — ask my master, 
else — ” 

“Ah, it is but little your master could tell 
me ; for he only knows that you have learned 
what he can draw from you in a lesson of less 
than an hour. That is only of the surface of 
things. But there is something deeper in 
every lesson. In every new thing learned 
there should be some new revelation, some 
fresh insight into the spirit and power, the 
mission, the soul of music. You should gain 
in enthusiasm as well as in technical knowl- 
edge ; you should be more and more concerned 
for rightness in yourself, that there may be 
rightness in your music. My lad, behind all 
true music lie thoughts, as much as behind 
poetry or painting or architecture. You can 
not play really unless you think and feel ; there 
must be a self behind the music, and it must 


70 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


be a self worthy of love and respect, and pow- 
erful to kindle soul in others. What sound 
is that ? ” 

“ That’s Hobber, taking his cornet down.” 

So ! let us hear him a little.” They list- 
ened. 

“ You call that music ? It is true, he follows 
the assigned notes, and he marks the demanded 
time : but where is his expression ? This 
noise he is making is crude, inexpressive. It 
falls coldly on the ear; it breaks my heart. 
Now, let me show you what the cornet can do. 
I am a Swiss. On the notes of this music I 
am going back to my beloved land. Before me 
spread with ‘snowy peaks engrailed,’ as your 
English poet says, the Alps — infinity in mat- 
ter. I see great flashing spaces — seas of glass 
mingled with fire — the glaciers, smitten by 
the sun ! Mont Blanc lifts up his head, hoary 
with pre-Adamite snow. The Jungfrau, with 
her placid state, her folded arms, sits in her 
bridal white, tutelary genius of the homes of 
Switzerland. Monte Rosa flushes like the 
morning ; the airs that breathe around me are 
crisp with frost and yet sweet with flower- 


IVHIM'S INHERITANCE. 


71 


breath. I hear the laughter of the sky-born 
rivers running down the gorges ; I listen to the 
jodel of the mountaineer, to the tinkling of the 
bells of the herd, to the shepherd’s song. I 
see the goats winding down the steep descents 
in the eventide. I listen to the laughter of 
my sisters, and I hear the voice of my mother 
calling her wanderer home.” 

The enthusiastic Swiss lifted his arms with 
a grand sweep, and his chest expanded while 
he drew back his head, then he put the silver 
tube to his lips and breathed a long, sweet, 
tearful note — an exile’s heart-cry. That note 
was to Whim as the chariots of Ammi-nadib, 
as Mahomet’s carpet, as the cloud throne of 
Indra that came floating slowly through supe- 
rior space. Before his mind rose with the grow- 
ing music all the senses, and breathed all the 
sounds that the Swiss cornetist had indicated. 
He saw the chalets perched in almost inacces- 
sible places ; he heard the dull thunder of the 
falling avalanche, the scream of the eagle sweep- 
ing upward ; the laughter of children, glad that 
the winter was gone. He felt, there in the 
midst of the winter day, in that attic, none too 


1/2 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


warm, the breaking of the bondage of the ice- 
king, the return of summer swinging garlands 
over all the plain. 

“ What do you think of that ? ” asked the 
cornetist. 

“ That is surely the way angels make sounds 
in heaven.” 

The master waited for his music to make its 
full effect ; then he said, earnestly : — 

“ Look you ! did you ever read of the ice- 
palaces of Odin, of Valhalla in the North, of 
the Bridge of Frost, of the revels of the North 
kings where they drink blood and mead from 
skulls, and shout until the roof trembles ? 
Have you heard of the ‘Twilight of the Gods,’ 
that dim eclipse, that cold and pale shall fall 
upon that revelling crew, and chill them into a 
long dark silence, that shall be neither life nor 
death .? ” 

“ I have read of it,” said Whim. 

“ I will tell it to you in music.” 

And then in that cold attic, out of that silver 
tube, they heard the snapping of the frost, the 
grinding of iceberg and floe, the shouts of the 
gods, the clash of arms, the rush of blood and 


WHIM^S lA^IIERITANCE. 


173 


mead in rivers to the lips of those Northern 
kings, the war songs, the wassail, and found 
the gods themselves grown weary, and heard 
the revel sink to rest, and that grim silence, 
that was neither sleep nor death, settle over 
the terrible splendor of Valhalla, and felt that 
Ragnaroc was deathly cold and pale. 

It is thus," said the master, when the last 
note had died away, “ that you must learn to 
make music. You must accumulate thoughts, 
and practise yourself in their expression. You 
must think a thought, a thought worth think- 
ing, and then you must seek the note for 
its expression. You must seek in every thing 
to learn the capacity of your instrument, and 
develop in every way your capacity for bringing 
out its power. When you have a study given 
you, you must go back to its meaning, to its 
origin, and forward to its object, and outward 
in all directions, to what it can do for you and 
for others. When you hear music, especially 
of the great masters, you must search to find 
your heart e7t rapport with their hearts ; you 
must discover what they meant to express, 
and you must prepare to interpret their true 


174 tn black and gold. 

thought. You must always have something 
to express to others. The Hebrews were, 
and are, well dowered in music ; it was much 
of their worship. Painting they had not — 
scarcely sculpture. They thought in tones. 
That is not all. You must compare music, 
the music of various schools and races, to 
see where the varied idea and constitution 
of the musician develops itself. Compare 
French and German and Italian — Auber, 
Gluck, Jomelli ; you must see the differences 
of race, education, character, age, period, writ- 
ten in the music of masters, just as these are 
written in the books of authors. Don’t tell 
me you have ever learned a lesson. You 
may have nibbled a little around its edges, 
as a mouse around a cheese. Every score 
you study, you want to find out all about it, 
and all about its author, before you begin to 
try to express it in sound. You must know 
what you are going to express. Make honest 
work of your music.” 

With natural gifts, and such instructions. 
Whim could not but do well, far above the 
average of his fellow-students ; he played at 


WHIM^S INHERITANCE. 


175 


the Conservatory concerts, he became popular, 
he was invited out to play sometimes at private 
concerts, and Doro felt it was good that he 
should earn what he could for himself. Some- 
times he accidentally met his father going out 
from his late breakfast. Doro tried to make 
these meetings few ; she wanted Granby to 
forget Whim. 

“ So,” said Granby, eying the violin-case, 
*‘you stick to your fiddling.^ Beggarly trade, 
that ; won’t bring you dry bread.” 

Oh, no ; it will bring bread well buttered. 
Why, father, I earn money now. I earned 
five dollars last night.” Thus the unsuspect- 
ing Whim. 

‘‘ Five dollars ! I’ll warrant she took it 
away from you. Poor boy, you are well tied 
up to her apron-strings, as if you were a three- 
year-old.” 

“ I am not ! ” cried Whim, indignantly. “ It 
is in my pocket this minute, and I’m going 
to buy patent-leather pumps and a satin tie 
to wear at concerts.” 

Granby shook his head incredulously. Whim 
took out the note. Granby seized and ex- 


17 ^ IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

amined it, then slid it into his own vest- 
pocket, “ My dear boy, Fll double it for 
you to-day, as you are not allowed to help 
yourself that fashion.” 

Whim made a wry face, shrugged his 
shoulders, and proceeded to his teacher in a 
harrowed state of mind. His money was gone ; 
he never expected to see it again, Flowever, 
that was not Granby’s game. He had a victim 
to entrap. He believed that the boy would 
bring him luck if he could get him to go with 
him to a gaming-den. Next morning he way- 
laid Whim, and pulled him into the sitting- 
room. “ See here, boy, I owe you something. 
What did I tell you ! Double it, eh ! Well, 
there’s the ten.” 

Whim could hardly believe his eyes. At 
that crisis, as he held the crisp new note, 
Doro came in. He cried out: — 

‘‘Now, Doro, what do you think.? My 
money is doubled ! I can get gloves and new 
music and a present for you. Father has 
doubled it for me. What do you say to luck, 
now .? ” 

“ Is that your five ? ” asked Doro, while 
Granby eyed her. 


WHIM^S INHERITANCE. 


177 


“ It is my five turned into a ten.” 

She took it from his fingers. He thought 
it was to look at. She left the room with it. 

“There, fool!” cried his father; “so the 
little tyrant beats you.” 

“ She’ll come back,” said Whim, faintly. 

“She won’t — not with the money.” 

“ She is coming. I hear her.” (Enter 
Doro.) 

“There, Whim! There are your five dol- 
lars. That is clean, well earned, honest 
money; take it — it is yours. Father, there 
is your money — it is part of the price Satan 
has for souls.” 

“ Won’t you have it. Whim ? ” asked Granby, 
jauntily. 

“No, he will not have it. I promised our 
mother I would bring him to heaven, and he 
has to come ! But you are making it hard 
work, father.” 

She looked so distressed, so white, so pitiful, 
this little Doro with the over-much golden hair, 
that suddenly rushed into Whim’s mind all that 
she had so faithfully and tenderly been to him 
since he was three and she was six, his little 


178 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


mother, who kissed his tears away, and played 
with him, and held his hand and sung to him 
in the dark after he was put to bed, that he 
was overcome by the recollection. He caught 
her around the neck, kissed her, crying, “ All 
right, Doro, I don’t want that other five ; I’ll go 
with you wherever you say. So now I’m off 
to school.” 

“ I’ll try him again,” said Granby, defiantly. 

That morning Doro felt herself constrained 
to utter so many sighs over a bread-pudding 
which she was compounding, that Maggie in- 
quired what was the matter. “ Is the bread 
mouldy, or have you found sand in the sugar } 
Everything is ’dulterationed now.” 

^‘No,” Doro confessed, the bread and the 
sugar were good ; she was “ worrying about 
Whim.” 

“ La ! ” said Maggie, “ you can’t expect boys 
to be like girls, with a sense of duty and mind- 
ing their business, and doing right because 
it is right. By no means. Boys have no more 
sense of duty than butterflies. You have to 
coax them to be good — give them things, 
humor them along, amuse them, if you mean to 


WHIM^S INHERITANCE, 


79 


keep them out of mischief. If you are afraid 
of Whim going wrong, you should buy him a 
verbodiscle.” 

“ A what f ” asked Doro. 

Why, a verbodiscle ! ” 

** I don’t know what they are,^’ said Doro. 

“ Then you can’t have used your eyes very 
well. There is a plenty of ’em flying round the 
streets — a great big wheel, with a little no- 
account wheel behind, and men riding on ’em 
like mad. He’d like a verbodiscle.” 

“ Oh ! you mean a bicycle ! ” 

‘‘It’s all the same,” said Maggie. 

“ Oh, it’s quite different ; but that’s no mat- 
ter. I could not buy him one of those, Mag- 
gie ; they cost seventy-five or a hundred dollars 
apiece.” 

“ If that’s the case,” said Maggie, “ of course 
you can’t, and you might as well give up and 
done with it, and expect him to go to destruc- 
tion before he’s much older. He is young and 
ignorant, and ready to dip into any kind of mis- 
chief, and his father means to have him for 
a gambler. He’ll get him with his talk, he is 
so plausible when he sets out. He is truly the 


I So 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


most hyperbolical talker I ever see or heard 
tell of.” 

This was poor promise for Whim, and Doro 
began to add tears as well as sighs to the con- 
coction of the pudding. 


CHAPTER X. 


GOING WITH FATHER. 

** T^IDN’T you think that ‘ Road to Ruin ’ 
was a mighty nice hymn } ” said the attic 
to the cobbler. “ I went out with it again the 
other day, and I thought I was doing a good 
work. That’s a touchin’ verse : — 

“ ‘ The road to ruin is broad and steep, 

Wherein poor sinners go astray, 

And all because they will not keep 
The law that shows the narrow way.* 

If every body loved the Bible as David sets 
forth in the 119th Psalm, there’d be less people 
travelling the road to ruin. I went into the 
court-house yesterday to sell ‘Roads to Ruin.' 
I gave one or two to some prisoners. Says I, 
‘You’re on that road. “Turn ye, do turn ye, 
why will ye die ’ 

“ ‘ Stop, poor sinner, stop and think. 

Before you farther go. 

Why will you trifle on the brink 
Of everlasting woe ? * 

181 


i 82 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


And I sold some hymns to the lawyers, telling 
them I wasn’t no ways clear they was all off 
the road to ruin ; and the judges each bought 
one, and says I to them : ‘ Sirs, you now sit on 
the judgment-seat ; remember, you will have to 
appear before the Judgment-seat.’ Well, being 
in the court-room minded me of another argu- 
ment for the inspiration of the Holy Scriptures 
— for their being just what they claims. It is 
testimony. The men that wrote the New 
Testament was good men, and respected as 
such in their day. They didn’t write by hear- 
say, but they declared, as the ’Postle John says, 
‘that which we have seen with our eyes, and 
our hands have handled.’ Peter says, ‘This 
Voice which came from heaven we heard 
when we were with Him in the Holy Mount.’ 
Paul says he saw the Lord Jesus; also, John 
says, ‘ We have seen and do testify.’ ” 

“ You are always out with a new argument,” 
said Jonas. 

“ So I am ! And that court-room was like a 
commentary on Scripture. They had a lot of 
poor drinking men up. “ Who hath woe } who 
hath redness of eyes ? who hath wounds without 


GOING WITH FA TIIER. 


183 


cause?’ says the Book, and there they stood, 
just as if it had drawn their photographs. And 
there was a liquor-dealer charged with killing a 
man. ‘ Woe to him that giveth his neighbor 
drink,’ says the Book. Why, Mr. Jonas, I don’t 
see how you can doubt a book that speaks like 
that ! ” 

Well,” said Jonas, “suppose part of the 
Bible was true — say the Epistles of Paul. 
I read a book lately, called ‘ Horae Paulinae,’ 
that proved that pretty well, — or say the 
Gospel of John.” 

“ Why, man, if you admit either the Gospels 
or the Epistles to be true word of God, then 
by them you stand convicted of being a sinner 
and needing a Saviour, and finding the only 
Saviour in Jesus Christ. And, besides that, 
the Bible hangs together, so you can’t take 
part and leave part very easy. The Prophets 
quote the Psalms, and the Psalms quote the 
Law and the historic books, and the Apostles 
quote the Psalms and Law and Prophets, and 
the Gospels maintain all that went before them, 
and so it is all bound together, testimony lap- 
ping onto testimony. 


184 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

“The Bible hangs together, but man’s work 
don’t. Just you compare newspapers, even of 
the same party, and see how they contradict ; 
and as for opposite parties! — my land! what 
one says is black, the other is bound to say is 
white on the spot.” 

“ Well, see here,” said Jonas, “ what a lot of 
scamps the Bible tells about ! There’s some- 
thing against every one of them, except, per- 
haps, Joseph and Daniel and Job; Noah and 
David and Solomon and Judas and Peter all 
did things that would get them turned out of 
church nowdays.” 

“ And isn’t that a sure sign the Bible wasn’t 
written by men } The Bible was written about 
men, about humans, not about angels or saints 
up in heaven. We know that humans are 
always sinning and falling, more or less, on 
account of their human nature, even when 
they have grace in them, and the Bible is 
honest, and tells square truth about these 
heroes ; while men who write about great 
Christians or other great men are so preju- 
diced for them that they forget, or don’t see, 
or slur over all that has been wrong. If the 


GOING WITH FA THER. 


185 


Bible was a human book, and any publishers 
had revised the manuscript, they would have 
cut out all that about good people who lied, 
or quarrelled, or were cowardly, got mad, got 
drunk, swore, did all that kind of human sin- 
fulness ; they’d have said : ‘ Oh, it won’t do 
to tell this — it will be a bad example.’ ‘Oh, 
we must leave this out ; it will look as if these 
were not good people.' And so we poor sin- 
ners, who are falling and repenting every day, 
would never know what forgiving mercy is in 
our God. What’s more, the Bible don’t side 
with kings and princes and rich men, and hide 
their iniquities, and spread it all out thick 
about poor folks. It hasn’t a word against 
Beggar Lazarus, but it tells the truth about 
Nabal and Dives. David and Solomon hadn’t 
money enough to buy the record of their sins 
out of the Holy Book.” 

“Well, I must say,” remarked Jonas, “that 
the more I talk with you, the more I’m in- 
terested in the Bible.” 

“ Now, I must be going,” said the hymn- 
seller; “all I have to say is, over your head 
here, you’ve got a little girl that lives by the 


1 86 Ijsr BLACK AND GOLD. 

Bible, and you’ve got her father who lives 
direct against it, and you just compare them 
two together.” 

“ Poor little Doro,” said Jonas, “ she is worry- 
ing a good bit over that brother of hers ; he’s a 
lively chap to have no guardians but a soft- 
hearted little sister and a rascal of a father.” 

Yes, Doro was worrying about Whim. 
Whim was one of the boys who seem bound 
to take all their experiences for themselves, 
rather than hearsay. Their lessons cost dear 
to themselves and those who love them. The 
one great danger of Whim’s life was his lack 
of moral sense, of quickness of conscience, of 
moral acuteness. It seemed as if in the mak- 
ing of this brother and sister, the girl had all 
the conscience and the boy nearly none. Doro 
had a scrupulous conscience, a painfully sensi- 
tive conscience, a conscience that demanded 
an infinite exactness of rectitude from herself 
and others. Whim, on the other hand, woke 
up slowly to the idea that any thing was wrong 
or in any way to be reprobated. A sin must 
be as high as the tower of Babel, as crooked as 
an S, and as ugly as the Gorgon head on the 


GOING WITH FATHER. 1 8 / 

shield of Athena, for Whim to perceive its 
existence at all. But out of this very obtuse- 
ness arose a measure of Whim’s safety. It 
never occurred to him that a proceeding was 
likely to be reprobated, and so he made no 
effort to conceal it ; he told his intentions or 
his acts right out, and so Doro was forewarned 
and forearmed. 

I’m going to see Bob Lane for a while, after 
I’m done the music for the wax,” said Whim, 
at the tea-table. “Two more of the fellows 
from the school are coming down — cornets.” 

“ I suppose you are going to play then,” said 
Doro. 

“Yes, we’re going to play,” said Whim, with 
a peculiar expression. 

“ What are you going to play } I wish I 
could hear you.” 

“ SeCy you mean, girl ! We’re going to play 
cards.” 

“What! ! I” 

“Bob Lane is to teach us. I suppose there 
isn’t another such milksop round as I am — 
’most fourteen, and don’t know one card from 
another.” 


i88 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ But you must 7iot know one card from an- 
other.” 

“ Nonsense, girl ; we’re not going to play for 
money, nor have any drink.” 

“ But to know how to play cards, or think 
you know, is the first step ; the playing for 
money comes after. Ignorance is safety.” 

“ But father says every gentleman knows 
how to play cards, and that a man who doesn’t 
know cards is laughed at ; and that when peo- 
ple get old, if they can’t amuse themselves with 
a quiet game, they have nothing left them but 
to mope.” 

And mother said that cards had been the 
bane of her life, and the cause of her death, 
and that I was never to let you touch one, 
Whim ! ” 

“ But if it’s gambling you’re afraid of, Doro, 
people gamble with plenty of other things as 
well as cards.” 

I know it, and I want you to keep clean of 
all of it. You are, perhaps, in more danger 
than other boys. Remember your inheritance, 
Whim.” 


“ I won’t do any harm with it, Doro.” 


GOING WITH FATHER. 


189 


Whim, you can not learn to play cards. I 
shall hate to leave the show to Maggie right in 
the middle of it ; but if you go I must. I will 
go to Bob Lane’s if you go, and tell them just 
my feelings about cards.” 

“ You won’t, Doro.” 

‘‘ / certainly 

“ Bother ! then I’ll have to stay at home.” 

Doro caught him round the neck, kissed him, 
and said he was ‘‘a blessed boy.” 

Whim uneasily pulled away from her em- 
braces, and vowed that if she kept him so 
tight, he would be driven to run away.” 

“ Then I shall have to follow you. Whim,” 
said Doro. 

She watched Whim more and more closely 
after that, and tried all ways of diverting his 
attention and amusing him. She was ready 
for any sacrifice to prevent the fatal taste for 
gambling, the quenchless thirst of the gamester 
awaking in his heart. Maggie, out of hate for 
Granby, liking for Whim, and love for Doro, 
shared this watch. 

One evening Whim asked Doro if she would 
not play at the show : he wanted to go up to his 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


190 

room. “ Are you sick ? ” asked Doro, anxiously. 
“ Of course I can play.” 

“ No, I’m not sick ; my head aches. I 
worked hard to-day.” 

He went upstairs, and all Doro’s motherl\’ 
instincts were awake. “ I’m afraid Whim is 
sick,” she said to Maggie. 

“ More likely some mischief is up. You’d 
better look out for him.” 

“ Whatever do you mean } ” 

“ His father is at the bottom of it. I know 
what I know.” 

“ Tell me at once what you know, Maggie 

“ I see his father slipping a note into his 
hand yesterday, and giving him a wink this 
morning. He is up to something.” 

Doro ran upstairs and knocked at Whim’s 
door. All was still. She knocked again, and 
called. No response. 

“ Whim ! You are here ; you must let me in.” 

Whim jerked the door open. “What now, 
Doro.? You are such a fuss.” 

Doro was in her blue silk show dress, her 
golden hair fell around her like a veil, her eyes 
were tearful, her lips pitiful. 


GOING WITH FATHER. IQI 

Whim was dressing himself with care. He 
had on his best trousers and his patent leather 
shoes. His best tie and kerchief lay on the 
little table. He was brushing his pretty curly 
hair, and Doro shuddered as she saw in him 
some of the motions and little vanities, and the 
same twist to his curls that his father had. 

“ Where are you going, dear Whim ? ” 

“To a little party — if you must know, 
Doro.” 

“ Where, with whom, dear Whim ? ” 

“ Well, to a rich man’s on Beacon street — a 
very rich man. The one I told you of, that 
had pictures, conservatory, music, all kinds of 
gorgeousness, and I’m invited to go with father.” 

“ Going with father ! Then, it’s a gambling 
party. Whim.” 

“ I’m sure I don’t know. I needn’t gamble, 
and I sha’n’t gamble ; I don’t know how. The 
most I can do is to look on. I shall see life. 
If I’m going to succeed in any thing, father 
says, I must see life. I must know men, and 
go in society, and learn how to handle myself. 
I can’t do well on a concert platform if I am 
awkward and seem just out of the backwoods.” 


CHAPTER XI. 


DORO SHARES WITH WHIM. 

ORO was not so much beguiled by Whim’s 



plea in behalf of his manners as was in 
Whim’s view desirable. The little sister had 
what is called a very level head. She re- 
sponded calmly: “Your teachers will see to 
your manners, Whim ; and you can not learn 
really good attractive manners from a set of 
fast men — from a crowd of gamblers.” 

“These are gentlemen, genuine gentlemen, 
some of the first and richest men in Boston. 
Father says I am in luck to have a chance to 
get in with them, and ought to improve it.” 

“And when did father say all these things 
to you. Whim } ” 

“Why — he — called on me — at the Con- 
servatory a time or two, he wanted to hear my 
playing.” 

“ He wanted to make you as bad as him- 
self ! ” cried Doro, fiercely. 


DORO SHARES WITH WHIM. IQS 

“That’s a pretty way to talk about father,” 
said Whim. 

“ It’s dreadful, but I can’t help it. I must 
say the truth about him, or lose you. Whim, 
don’t drive me to say any more. I don’t want 
to make you feel as wretched as I have felt. 
Trust me, Whim.. Do as I say without making 
me tell you any more. Promise me. Whim, 
that you won’t go with father to-night or any 
other time. Give me your word that you will 
not meet his friends. Tell me that you will 
not be persuaded by his talk.” 

“I shall do no such thing,” cried Whim. 
“ He probably knows as much about some 
things as you do. A pretty way to do — to 
set me against him. You have set up to be- 
lieve what you call gambling is wrong. Gam- 
ing is a thing you know nothing about. It is a 
science. If a man makes money by wit and 
memory, on scientific principles, he has as much 
right to do it as by building steam-engines.” 

“What do you believe is wrong.? Is stealing 
wrong .?” 

“Yes ; but gambling, or gaming, is not steal- 
ing. That is all prejudice. So is your notion 
about lotteries prejudice.” 


194 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ But lotteries and gaming are against the 
law.” 

“ Here, maybe, in this Puritanical New Eng- 
land,” said Whim, quoting from his paternal 
relative, “but they are not against law in the 
South, and the South is as good as we are, any 
day.” 

“ Much better in some things, perhaps, but 
wrong about the lotteries. Whim, it’s ’most 
show time. Will you come down with me, and 
drop this dreadful engagement } ” 

“ No, Doro ; I won’t.” 

“ Do you think forging wrong ? ” 

“ Of course I do.” 

“ Would you associate with thieves and forg- 
ers, or think them safe company for you, or 
follow their advice ” 

“ No, I would not.” 

Doro burst into tears. 

“Oh, Whim, we have an inheritance that I 
have kept to myself ! I hated to share it with 
you. Whim. I hate now to share it. Oh, do 
as I say without it.” 

“ I hate crying, and don’t know what you 
mean ; and if you have any thing to tell, Doro, 


DORO SHARES IVITII WI/fM. 195 

you’d better out with it. It is ’most time for 
the show, and for me to start.” 

“Whim, do you remember I put something 
on a card once, and gave it to father } ” 

“ Yes. What was it ” 

“ Oh, how can I tell you ” 

“ Well, don’t, then, if you can’t. Where’s 
my handkerchief I’m off.” 

Doro caught him in her arms. 

“Oh, Whim! You would have it! You 
make me tell. Why will you not be saved 
without it! Our poor father — is a thief and 
a forger.” 

“ What ! ” cried Whim, beside himself. 

“ I tell you true. He is not a man that you 
can safely go with. This gambling that you 
defend has made him what I say. If he had 
been found by the police, he would be now in 
prison. If he were seized now, he would go to 
prison, but the thing has blown over, and they 
are not looking for him. If to-night he is 
going among honest men, he is going on false 
pretences, and is not a fit associate for them, 
for he has never repented, Whim, nor tried to 
restore what he took.” 


ig6 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

Who knows this ? ” sobbed Whim, over- 
come, “ Jonas ? Maggie ? ” 

‘‘ No one in Boston but myself. Mother 
told me. She wanted me to try and pay it 
back, to make our name clean so far as I could ; 
but it is so much. Whim, and I get so little, 
and we use it almost all up.” 

“ How much is it } ” said Whim, hoarsey 1. 

“Two thousand dollars.” 

“A thief’s children!” cried Whim. “How 
can we look any one in the face } We can 
never try to do or be any thing again.” 

“Yes, we can,” said Doro. “Mother told 
me that text, ‘Then I restored that which I 
took not away.’ We will restore it. Whim, you 
and I, with the interest. I know the name. 
It is Robert Archer ; I have the address in 
Philadelphia. Father got in with him as a 
clerk, when they, first came from England, and 
they became friends, and father used money 
out of the desk for gambling ; and Mr. Archer 
found it out, and forgave him ; and then father 
forged his name to get two thousand dollars 
for gambling, and he lost it all and fled. 
Mother went to see Mr. Archer, and told him 


DORO SHARES WITH WH/M. 


197 


she or her children would one day pay it all. 
He did not hunt after poor father much, out of 
pity for poor mother. When she found he was 
here, she followed him ; but things never went 
any better — they never do when one is gam- 
bling.” 

Whim was tearing off his gala dress, fling- 
ing each article furiously upon bed or chairs. 
Then he jerked himself into his ordinary 
clothes. “ I didn’t know I was the son of a 
thief,” he shouted, madly. 

“ Dear boy, I was forced to tell you to keep 
you from going the same way, perhaps,” said 
Doro. “You are not safe with father.” 

“ It’s all right to tell me. I had as much 
right to know it, and to bear the burden of it, 
and help pay it back, as you. Come along, it is 
show time. Pity your eyes are so red, Doro ; 
but it can’t be helped.” 

They went down-stairs, and Whim privately 
shook his fist in the direction of the street cor- 
ner where he supposed his deceitful parent to 
be waiting. Then he took his violin and 
played furiously — wailing, moaning, groan- 
ing. 


198 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ What is that unhappy music you are play- 
ing, Whim ? ” asked Doro. 

‘^The chorus of the condemned in the ‘Par- 
adise Lost,’ ” said Whim, sharply. “ I feel just 
like it — like nothing else.” 

Poor Whim ! Doro felt that she had tried a 
severe remedy — an extreme remedy — the last 
one she had in reserve. She knew that if she 
had allowed his father’s secret influence to in- 
crease over him, he would be surely ruined. 
She had not dared allow him to go to such a 
place as he had described, where all the attrac- 
tions of wealth and style and dashing men, with 
loud, brisk, witty talk, which the poor boy 
would consider wonderfully fascinating, would 
surround with a glamour the terrible vice of 
gambling. And yet, what would be the ulti- 
mate result of this fearful confidence } Would 
it rebuff and discourage him, load him with a 
hereditary curse and crime } Or w'ould it awake 
latent manliness to purge his name of the sin, 
to work to remove the burden and do justice.? 
Would it sharpen his moral sense, showing him 
the process of sin, its progression by swift 
stages, from that of which man does not take 


DORO SHARES WITH WHIM. 1 99 

cognizance, and through various steps to that 
which falls under the rod of human law ? 
Doro had been able to consult with no one. 
The story confided by her mother was not of 
a nature that could be shared. Jonas, the 
pastor, neither of them, could hear this story 
of her criminal father. 

After the show. Whim came and sat down by 
his sister, when Maggie, having brushed her 
young mistress’ hair, had gone off, grumbling 
about the cold of the January night. 

‘‘Tell me all about it, Doro.^” said Whim, 
taking her hand. 

“There is little to tell but what I told you. 
Whim. Mother left me the address of Robert 
Archer, in Philadelphia, at least of a law firm 
where I could find him. She had laid up two 
hundred dollars — in eight years. Whim ! — and 
she gave me the bank book, and told me all 
about it. She wanted to pay it back, you see. 
I have laid up with that fifty dollars — only 
fifty. Whim. You see, the first year after 
mother died father took almost all the show 
money away from me, and we got in debt 
for rent and in debt at the grocery and coal 


200 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


yard, and wc came near being turned out. 
Then I sold two rings that had come to mother 
from England, with your violin — rings my 
grandmother had worn ; they came for me, so 
I had a right to sell them.” 

“ Yes, poor Doro, sold all that was left you.” 

“You know I have the wax.” 

“ And support us all out of it ! Well, go 
ahead, Doro.” 

“ I paid up some of the bills — enough to go 
on, and I made up my mind not to let any more 
honest earnings of my show go to a gambling- 
den. And by the help of Jonas I have got on. 
Father is not a violent man, you know ; he 
never strikes ; and then Jonas, I think, told 
him if he troubled me he would bring the 
case into court, and poor father is naturally 
afraid of a court. If the police got hold of his 
name and history, he would be wanted in Phila- 
delphia.” 

“ Two hundred and fifty to pay off two thou- 
sand, with some ten or twelve vears’ interest. 
That’s a look-out, Doro. Well, now, see here. 
I have a right to share this with you ; you 
ought to have told me long ago.” 


DORO SHARES WITH WHIM. 


201 


‘‘ I might have told you when you were so 
young it would not impress you or be a warn- 
ing to you.” 

Perhaps. Well, now I do know, I’ll take 
hold of the thing with you. I’ll be more sav- 
ing, and I’ll earn all I can, and we’ll roll up 
that money as fast as possible.” 

“ Oh, you dear, good boy ! ” cried Doro, 
clasping his neck. 

“ I don’t know as I am any better than you 
are,” said Whim, condescendingly, feeling ex- 
cessively virtuous. 

“ And you’ll hate gambling and all that is 
like it, or leads to it, forever, won’t you. Whim ? 
You see what it comes to.” 

I see. You’d better believe I’ll hate it,” 
said Whim, confidently. “ Why, Doro, I feel 
as if I could not look a decent man, or a person 
that has an honest father, in the face. This 
money has to be put back. I can’t have such a 
story as this behind me when I am a first violin. 
I suppose it will end in my changing my name 
any way, and dropping the Granby. I could 
come out as just Henry Whymper.” Then, by 
an association of ideas : — 


202 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ I say, Doro, you sold your rings ; do you 
think I ought to sell my Cremona ? It would 
fetch just about what we need.” 

Doro shook her head. “ I suppose it is in 
our power to sell it, Whim, but it would be 
against the wishes, the conditions made by our 
grandfather and uncle when it was left. It was 
left to be used by you, and it was very strictly 
written tha.t it was not to be sold to pay any 
obligations contracted in any way by our 
father.” 

Whim felt rather glad, as he left for his own 
room, that the Cremona was freed from any 
moral obligations toward the fatal debt. 

“Where’s Whim V' cried Granby, coming in 
late. “He did not keep an engagement with 
me. Was that your fault, miss } ” 

“Yes, father; I suppose so.” 

“ And how long will you stand between me 
and my son V'* 

“ As long as you gamble and drink and would 
ruin him, father.” 

“I won’t stand it longer!” cried Granby, 
seizing Doro by the neck. “I’ll shake the 
breath out of you, if I die for it ! ” 


DORO SHARES WITH WHIM. 


203 


“ Let her alone ! ” shouted Whim, bursting 
into the room, and wrenching his father’s hand 
from his terrified sister. “ I did not go to you, 
because I was busy at home doing a sum. I 
was calculating the amount of two thousand 
dollars with interest for ten years and nine 
months.” 

Granby fell back to the wall. “ You too ! ” 
he cried ; “ if I am in the hands of a pair of 
children, I am done for. I might as well blow 
my brains out at once.” 

“ Have I hurt you during the last three 
years .^” asked Doro. “You will betray your- 
self some day when you have been drinking. 
We will not betray you.” 

“We would neither of us hurt you,” said 
Whim. 

“ All we want is to set you free by paying 
back the money,” cried Doro. “We will try 
for that, father, with all our might.” 

“ Yes, we are at it already,” shouted Whim, 
eagerly. 

“You have made a beginning.? You have 
laid up something .? You have a little money for 
me, for my safety?” cried Granby, bursting 


204 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


into maudlin tears. “ Bless you, my dear chil- 
dren ! We are safe. Fifty dollars to-morrow 
will make me a rich man. Not a paltry two 
thousand with interest, but ten thousand, 
twenty thousand I will bring home to you, to 
do with as you like, to-morrow night. My 
dear good children, just let me try my luck 
once with that money " 

Doro flung herself on the sofa, and began 
to cry. 

Whim, with only moderate ceremony, es- 
’corted his father to his bedroom. 

The Conservatory was to give an afternoon 
concert, and Whim gave a ticket to Doro and 
one to his father. Granby said he should 
surely attend. It was Thursday afternoon, a 
period when Maggie always went abroad — not 
to visit her friends, for she had few, but to en- 
joy the innocent and curious gratification of her 
life — walking upon Washington or Beacon 
street, or in the Public Gardens, and noticing 
the fine dresses of the ladies. Old Maggie 
received from this the same pleasure that 
many persons do from pictures. 


DORO SHARES WITH WHIM. 


205 


Just as Doro was setting forth with Whim, 
the postman handed her a letter. It was from 
Miss Harrison, saying that she wished to see 
her that afternoon, and would be at 97 at five 
o’clock. 

** After I hear you play. Whim, I must come 
back,” said Doro, “ to be ready for Miss Har- 
rison, and have the fire burning.” 

Accordingly, she was back at half-past four, 
let herself in with the latch-key, and ran lightly 
up to her room to put away her hat and sack. 
As she pushed open the door, a scene of singu- 
lar disorder met her eye. The bed was dis- 
mantled, clothes lying on the floor, mattress 
half off. On chairs or floor lay the few dresses, 
ruthlessly pulled from the closet ; the closet 
door was opened, boxes were overturned, her 
trunk was open and its contents scattered 
abroad, and, root of all this disorder, her father 
stood at the bureau, rifling the drawers, both 
hands ferreting among Doro’s poor posses- 
sions. Doro turned pale, and pressed her 
hands upon her heart. She was an orderly 
little being, and this reckless stirring-up of 
her little properties distressed her ; but worse 


2o6 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


than that, these drawers contained little me- 
mentoes of her mother — her gloves, her veil, 
her Testament, her needle- book, little articles 
associated closely and forever with the beloved 
dead ; and for these, though her father must 
know them, he had no respect, but flung them 
about as the street-picker flings over the refuse 
in barrels which he is investigating. Then, 
why was her father there } Evidently for no 
right or good purpose. She spoke sharply : 
‘‘ Father ! what are you doing ? ” 

The man started. “ What I have a right to 
do in my own house. If it doesn’t please you, 
go down-stairs.” 

** What are you looking for ? ” 

“ For that money you and Whim are making 
fools of yourselves laying up to pay to people 
who don’t need it. If I want my bills paid. I’ll 
see to them. What I need is money, to make 
money out of.” 

“If you had asked me about the money,” 
said Doro, “ I could have saved you trouble in 
looking. I have none in the house — not a 
dollar. Whatever I have of any value, even 
my mother’s wedding-ring and two of my 


DORO SHARES WITH WHIM. 


207 


grandmother’s teaspoons, Jonas keeps for 
me. 

“And why do you mix Jonas up in your 
affairs ? ” 

Doro made no verbal answer. She looked 
around her dismantled room, and waved her 
hand toward its disorder. Then she went 
down-stairs. She was angry, indignant. Then 
she remembered Whim’s violin — the famous 
Stradivarius. Her father would instantly have 
recognized that instrument, and, knowing its 
worth, he would have hurried it off without 
delay. She reflected how, for over three years, 
that precious thing had been in ,her room, ex- 
posed to such a raid as this, and God had 
wonderfully kept her father from any thought 
of examining her small belongings. Now the 
Cremona was safe in a vault, and Granby did 
not know that his son owned it. Gratitude 
for this Divine care, and for this escape, filled 
Doro’s heart, so that indignation had no room. 
She pitied and forgave the unhappy man who 
would try to rob his own children. Miss Har- 
rison came ; she intended to give a birthday 
party for her little niece, and she wanted 


208 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Whim to come and play and Doro to come 
and help with tableaux. It was an early 
party, fit for children, to begin at four o’clock, 
and Doro could be back to her show by 
eight. 

Yes, Doro would be glad to go; she and 
Whim could make that ten dollars easier than 
'most that they earned. As Miss Harrison and 
Doro stood talking, the door opened and her 
father came in. He supposed she was alone, 
or with Whim, and doubtless had something 
disagreeable to say. But he saw the shining 
folds of the silk dress, the seal-skin coat, the 
long hat-plume ; he caught sight, through the 
lobby door, of a coupe with a pair of horses, 
of a coachman in brown liveries. What ! 
Doro had such acquaintances ! He would 
speak properly to this Doro. Idle was Doro’s 
fear that some outbreak might alarm her 
teacher. 

My darling child, excuse me, I thought you 
were alone.” 

Was this her father’s voice, melodious, plau- 
sible } He had never used such tones to Doro 
before ; but he had them, it seemed ; by them 


BORO SHARES WITH WHIM. 


209 


he beguiled her mother ; by them he beguiled 
Whim. Dcrro started and flushed. 

“ It is my father,” she murmured to Miss 
Harrison. 

“ Father, my Sunday-school teacher is calling 
on me.” 

Perhaps Miss Harrison meant that little lift- 
ing and falling of her eyebrows as a salute. 
Granby swept an elegant bow, as good as any 
she received from her own set in social life. 
Perhaps some of the men whom she met in 
those select circles were Granby’s partners 
and adversaries of evenings in well concealed 
rooms, only guessed at by the police, and 
therefore it was natural that association should 
develop something in common among them, if 
it was only a bow. 

It is an unspeakable comfort,” said Granby 
in that new voice, “ that my dear child has 
such a friend, such a monitor. A little girl 
deprived of a mother’s instructions can have 
no better friend than her Sabbath-school 
teacher. My dear child, profit by all these 
opportunities.” 

Miss Harrison was looking from under level 


210 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


lids at Granby. His whole bearing had altered. 
He was always carefully neat and well dressed ; 
but Doro had never seen him with that gentle- 
manly, subdued air. Had she ever dreamed 
her father was so handsome a man ? She saw 
where Whim got some of his beauty. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE GREEN TABLE. 

70RDS could not express the alarmed 
^ ^ Doro’s relief at the part suddenly taken 
by her parent. “ My dear child has, perhaps, 
told you,” said the same melodious tones, 
‘‘that our fortunes have been adverse, and 
we have fallen from our proper station in life. 
Her admirable mother was of a high family 
in England — the Whympers. My own family 
was creditable. A cruel will has robbed us, 
and misfortunes in business have pursued us ; 
but I am applying all my energies to the rehab- 
ilitation of my family’s interest. I hope soon 
to set my beloved children in the position held 
by their ancestors. Until that fortunate hour, 
how thankful I am that my dear Doro has the 
unspeakable privilege of seeing and hearing a 
lady, on whose model she may form herself in 
all graces.” 

Here Granby swept another bow, and re- 


211 


212 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


treated as from a royal presence. It was a 
masterly, an impressive retreat. 

‘‘Your father is a handsome young man, 
Doro, and seems very fond of you. So glad 
you have some one to look out for you,” said 
Miss Harrison, all incapable of seeing under the 
surface of things. 

Doro thought of the scene upstairs, and was 
silent. That scene in her rummaged room was 
exceedingly bitter to her ; it gave her an un- 
usual sense of her father’s degradation. She 
would not for any thing have opened her lips 
about it to Whim or Maggie or Jonas. It 
was bad enough to know these things about 
her father herself, without sharing them. She 
was glad Miss Harrison had not dreamed the 
miserable truth of him. The minister had been 
her confidant, and had carefully kept confi- 
dence. The little scene below-stairs alarmed 
her more than the one above. What matter, 
after all, if her father meddled with her things ; 
he would find nothing worth taking away, and 
she could reduce disorder to order in any half- 
hour ; but the terror was to see him so amiable, 
so plausible, so ready with a tale ; it was thus 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


213 


that he manipulated Whim, thus he flattered 
and cajoled the boy, and made evil seem good 
and good evil. For the present. Whim was 
rather shy of his father, but the distressful 
impression would wear away, and Whim might 
fall again into the power of the flatterer, whose 
words were softer than oil and entered into the 
soul like drawn swords. 

The first effect of Doro’s confiding to Whim 
the family burden and disgrace, which she had 
born so long alone, seemed admirable. Whim 
felt a sense of his responsibilities ; he developed 
manliness ; he had an object in life, and the 
object excited industry and economy. A new 
moral sense seemed awakened in him ; the 
shame and danger of his father’s crime taught 
him something of the penalties of sin, and from 
these he laboriously deduced for himself some 
of the sinfulness of sin. For a while Whim 
was as zealous against all gambling as Doro 
was. Doro rejoiced, amid her trials, that Whim 
was safe. But Whim’s nature was one to prove 
true the often quoted : — 

“ Vice is a monster of such frightful mien 
As to be dreaded needs but to be seen, 

But seen too oft, familiar with her face. 

We first endure, then pity, then embrace.” 


214 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


However hideous to others, and to ourselves 
at first view, the “loathly frere,” the face of 
our darling, hereditary, particular sin may be, 
it loses its loathsomeness by familiarity. At 
first to Whim the heavens seemed black ; every 
other boy, blessed with honest pedigree, 
seemed happier than himself ; his father 
seemed a monster. But days went on, and 
the sunshine of his nature reasserted itself. 
The other boys treated him on equal terms ; 
his inherited shame was not written for the 
public to read. When he met his father, 
Granby was plausible as ever ; the law had 
not laid hands on him. If Whim had seen his 
father behind prison bars, the lesson might have 
been complete, and he might have hated sin 
because sin brings penalty and public igno- 
miny. Sin shorn of these adjuncts did not 
look so very terrible, after a while, to Whim. 
He was obliged to throw off the burden or 
break his heart. He was but a boy, and he 
threw it off, saying, “ Perhaps it did not matter 
so much, any way.” 

Doro’s feeling and purpose were steadfast, 
because she viewed wickedness not merely with 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


215 


human eyes, but in the light of God’s law and 
God’s holiness. She resolved to make repara- 
tion, because that would be right ; and while 
she felt her daily burden, she was not crushed 
by it, because she had found One to sustain 
her. 

Whim, for two or three months, rigorously 
brought Doro all the little money he earned, 
and told her to “ put it with the fund for the 
debt.” But after a little this self-denial be- 
came painful — it seemed endless. He said, 
“ It was useless to try and save money — such 
a sum ! It would be better to wait and give it 
all in a lump, when somehow or other they had 
made a fortune.” 

Then, too, he began to tell himself that the 
stealing and forgery did not necessarily belong 
to gaming; that gaming might be conducted 
on proper principles, and that, even if gaming 
were wrong, playing any kind of game might 
be right, and entirely dissociated from gam- 
bling. These views he reached partly under 
the influence of other boys, who liked to play 
billiards, pool, cards, and other games, and 
partly biassed by his father, who by degrees 


2i6 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


came into his company again, and called on 
him at the Conservatory, and \vaylaid him in 
the street. Granby had two purposes in his 
intercourse with Whim — one to detach him 
from Doro, the other to gloss over gaming. 
He held fast his superstition that a boy like 
Whim would bring him luck, and he had, be- 
sides, made up his mind that Whim, bearing his 
grandfather’s name, must certainly get some 
English property. He did not believe that 
the great-uncle Whymper had died impover- 
ished, and he told himself that when Whim was 
twenty-one it would be found that there was 
money for him in London, and he intended to 
be friends with Whim, and share that money. 
These, not any remnants of paternal affection, 
were the reasons that he surrounded and be 
sieged Whim with the stratagems of his fatal 
friendship. Unfortunately, Granby was able 
to impress on Whim the need of being less 
confidential and frank with Doro. 

Granby went to the Conservatory one Febru- 
ary day, and found his way to the top story, 
where Whim practised. There was a medley 
of sweet sounds in that top story, and some dis- 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


217 


cords. Two pianos were re-echoing in two 
opposite rooms, one the march from Lenora, 
the other a selection from Tannhauser. A 
cornet was giving forth “ The Last Rose ” from 
Martha. A bass-viol woke distant thunders 
with the Sinfonie Eroica, and a violin gave 
Strauss’ waltz, “ Good Old Times,” while 
Whim, shut in his Ihin-walled den, almost 
drowned the waltz as he stormed away, very 
appropriately, at a portion from “ The Tower 
of Babel.” Surely this was a musical “ Tower 
of Babel.” There was discord as well as con- 
cord of sweet sounds. 

*‘Are you going to take a lesson to-day, 
soon.^” asked Granby, seating himself in the 
window-seat, and smelling at a rose in his 
button-hole. “ Pity you can’t be out in the 
air.” 

“ I could if I liked. Fm not to have a lesson 
to-day. My master is laid up with earache. 
Had a new pupil yesterday that didn’t know 
a thing, except to flat where he ought to sharp. 
Came rather hard on the master, that ; I wish 
you could see him. He’s a German, made of 
wires, and about five feet high. When you 


2i8 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


rile him up with false notes, he gets wilder 
and wilder, till he jumps all around the room 
and yelps like a mad puppy. Never saw any 
one get so off his head in my life, and don’t he 
know music, though ! If he don’t, nobody 
does.” 

“ Well, come, boy ; you scrape at that admir- 
able instrument of yours quite enough. As 
you have a free hour, let us go out for a walk. 
You are getting pale, seems to me.” 

“ I’m all right,” said Whim, but he locked 
his violin in the case. 

They strolled about the streets for a time, 
then Granby stopped at a door. “ Come in 
here a bit.” 

“ What is going on in there } ” asked Whim, 
uneasily. 

‘‘Nothing that will harm you. You are too 
big a fellow to know no more of life than a 
nursery and the Conservatory attic. I’ll show 
you something — it is only to look on.” 

Whim followed. His father, after turning 
through several passages, touched a button 
on a heavy door. Presently the door opened ; 
there was a very thick door covered with baize 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


219 


within that. The person who put an investiga- 
ting nose to the crack of this door, suddenly 
flung it open on seeing Granby, and Whim, 
who stood before his father, saw a colored 
man with a tray in his hands, covered with 
strips of ivory ; he was trying to escape quickly 
from another door. Some one with a laugh 
stopped his exit by seizing his coat-tails. 
There were a number of men lounging on 
sofas or in big chairs, with their feet up on 
mantels or other chairs. All windows were 
closed ; the gas blazed as if it were midnight 
rather than three o’clock in the afternoon. A 
very handsome sideboard held glasses, bottles, 
decanters, silver trays, a bowl of ice, and two 
china baskets of lemons. The furniture was 
rich ; very gaudy pictures, which shocked 
Whim, hung on the walls ; there were three 
tall mirrors ; the carpet was velvet, glowing 
with roses ; some brilliant glass and brass orna- 
ments glittered on the mantels. When Granby 
and his son entered, they were greeted with a 
shout. “We didn’t look for you this time of 
day, and we heard the bobbies had learned our 
call. When you touched the bell, we hustled 
things.^’ 


220 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


The colored man laughed louder than the 
rest, set down his tray, and by some sleight-of- 
hand converted a very honest-looking piece of 
mahogany, in the centre of the room, into the 
fatal green table. Then the men around the 
room rose up, and “ pulled themselves to- 
gether,” as they said, and the result of the 
pulling was that from their sleeves and up their 
backs they got a supply of cards. They all lit 
cigars, and the colored man placed a glass of 
wine or other liquor at each elbow. He 
treated Whim, also, who stood close by his 
father’s chair. 

“ I don’t want it,” said Whim. 

Give him an iced sherbet,” said Granby ; 
“ he’s green yet.” 

Whim sipped the sherbet and thought it very 
nice. 

The scene at the table interested him. The 
men, with thin faces and eyes like hawks, 
bent over the green cloth. Little piles of 
silver or gold shone under the gas. Bank 
notes were scattered here and there, with what 
was to Whim a bewitching prodigality. The 
long, lean, white, nervous hands that moved 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


221 


above the disastrous green cloth were shapely, 
full of character, as musicians’ hands ; the most 
of them had rings that caught the light, and 
dazzled Whim’s ornament-loving eyes. Voices 
were, for the most part, low but clear. The 
words spoken were to Whim cabalistic, mys- 
terious, fascinating because unknown. An as- 
sumption of indifference pervaded the scene ; 
the indifference was as the thin crust of cooled 
lava on a volcano, and ever and anon the fire 
and fury of passion, of greed, hate, despair, 
exultation, leaped out like red flames in short, 
fierce, or blasphemous cries and sentences. 
How these men played ! How this one risked 
an eagle, and, unflinching, saw the gleaming 
gold lost to his adversary ! Another laid 
down a twenty-dollar bill, calmly as if it had 
been a fragment of shaving-paper ; a third, 
without evidence of elation, swept a hundred 
dollars into his pocket. They smoked contin- 
uously — as soon as one cigar was done they 
flung by the stump, took another, and swore 
at the negro for a light. Then, most of them 
drank as well as smoked ; some emptied their 
glasses as if they were so much water; others 


222 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


sipped cautiously, as if afraid of disturbing 
their nerves ; some abstained altogether. The 
defiant coldness of the losers covered much 
of their losses from the watching Whim, while 
his father, by a word or a nudge with his elbow, 
called his attention to all gains. “ Made that 
easy, eh, Whim.^” “Nice little pile, that. 
Whim.” “That’s the result of scientific play- 
ing — see.” “Fair profits and quick returns 
that, eh } ” Such were his low comments to 
the lad, who stood dazzled, fascinated, amazed. 
All his pure and honest home associations, all 
the gentle teachings of Doro, and the fading 
memory of his ill-fated mother, rose up in pro- 
test against these minions of Satan, whose 
greedy fingers were clutching and raking 
money over this green cloth. But the light, 
the newness, the glitter, the quaint colors 
and forms in the cards enamored him. The 
temptation was addressed to his most vulner- 
able point. Whim could understand the thirst 
for excitement, the temptation to go on in the 
midst of bad fortune, trusting to the turn of 
a card to bring change of luck. The hours 
passed like minutes. Granby was too astute 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


223 


to wish to wear out a first impression ; he 
was also anxious to conceal Whim’s escapade 
from Doro. He, therefore, at quarter before six, 
told Whim he “ had had enough of it for once. 
He had seen how it went, and that was all that 
was necessary ; and, taking him to the street, he 
sent him home with a warning to keep his own 
counsel and not stir up a fuss,” which Whim 
had already proposed to himself. 

“Whim,” said Doro, after tea, “do you see 
what a rip is in your shoe } That will never 
do ; run down and have Jonas sew it while you 
wait.” 

“Off with the shoe, then,” said Jonas, having 
looked at the rip. “ I’ll do it in no time.” 
And, being in a hurry, he lifted up Whim’s 
foot, untied the low shoe himself, and pulled 
it off. Then, holding it on his knee, he se- 
lected a waxed end, and put his hand inside 
the shoe. Suddenly he looked inside. Then 
he said to Whim: — 

“ What have you been doing to-day ? ” 

“ Studying, practising. — up at the Conserva- 
tory.” 

“What else.?" 


224 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ Nothing much. I took a little walk.” 

“And where did you go V 
“Oh, several places.” 

“Your memory seems to be failing you,” 
said Jonas; “let me jog it a bit. You went 
with your father to a gambling hell.” And as 
Othan the Norseman : — 

“ Then the king of the Saxons, 

In witness of the truth, 

Raising his noble head, 

He stretched his brown hand and said 
‘ Behold this walrus tooth,’ ” — 

SO Jonas stretched out his strong brown hand 
with a bit of bone lying on the palm. “ See 
here, this chip ? ” 

“ Father took me there. I didn’t know 
where I was going, and I didn’t play a bit.” 

“ Of course not ; you don’t know how yet. 
What did you think ? ” 

“Why — it didn’t seem so dreadful bad. 
There was no noise, no dirt ; all was elegant 
and quiet and stylish, and all seemed to be 
scientific; I didn’t see any cheating.” 

“ Wouldn’t have recognized it if you had. 
Going again ? ” 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


225 


Now, Whim already felt the deadly attrac- 
tion for the green table ; it was in his blood, 
and had been commended to him. He said, 
uneasily, to Jonas, “ Why, I’ve got my music 
to attend to.” 

“You might find the table attraction 
stronger, so strong that your passion for 
music, your love for your sister, would be the 
new ropes on Samson that the Bible tells about.” 

“Well, Jonas, what is the great harm.? Do 
you know.? Father says there is not any.” 

“ Does his life or character show his asser- 
tion true .? ” 

Whim shook his head. “ Doro, of course, is 
all wild against it. She’s a girl ; she’s excited 
and timid, and don’t know^what she is really 
talking about.” 

“ Who does, then .? Hasn’t she been robbed 
of mother, of childhood, of father, of happiness, 
by it .? She knows pretty well.” 

“But does every body’s luck come out that 
way, Jonas.?” 

“See here,” said Jonas, “was not the gam- 
ing accompanied by the free use of liquor and 
tobacco .? ” 


226 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“They were there,” admitted Whim; “the 
tobacco made me sick, but no one was forced 
to drink. Some didn’t touch any liquor,” 

“And swearing } No oaths, eh ” 

“ Well, some ; but a person need not swear 
unless he chooses.” 

“ Moral surroundings good } Respectable } 
Nice pictures } ” 

“ Well, there were some pictures that looked 
rather bad.” 

“ Designed to destroy moral sense. Now, 
how about time } Is not time wasted ? Plenty 
of time ? Your sister would tell you that for 
every hour you must give account to God — 
time wasted ^ ” 

“But, Jonas, if it is a business, pursued 
scientifically as a business for a living, why 
call it time-wasting if it makes a man his 
living.?” 

“ There is a proverb — I like that book of 
Proverbs — that says that he who loves pleasure 
shall be a poor man. I venture that all those 
gamblers are really poor men, and will die 
poor. Then, the temptation is to wager — to 
risk something, as all are doing ; and once 


THE GREEN TABLE. 


227 


begun, the risking goes on, for if one loses, he 
risks again to reinstate himself; if he wins, he 
does not wish to turn his back on his luck. 
Such a place as you visited to-day is illegal. 
If the police had raided it when you were there, 
you would have been arrested with the others. 
Is it honorable, gentlemanly, do you think, to 
sneak within closed windows, double doors, 
signs of admission, a watch to give information 
if the police comes near, slyness, trickery from 
beginning to end } ” 

Whim thought of the hidden cards, the shift- 
ing table, the negro disappearing with the 
chips, the general precaution. 

“ Every government of every civilized coun- 
try,” said Jonas, “has had to contend against 
the vice of gambling, by which its citizens have 
been ruined. Murders, suicides, sudden deaths 
from excitement, are numerous in gaming- 
houses. There is no science in these faro- 
tables ; they are games of cheating and 
rascality throughout. There is an old allegory 
that Gaming is the daughter of Fighting and 
Fortune, and mother of Duelling, Suicide, and 
Despair, and that this rabble feast on the 


228 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


bodies and souls of men, as buzzards on car- 
rion, and mock at the agonies of their victims. 
Like drunkenness, gambling is a universal 
curse. Every race of men has been taught by 
the devil to produce alcohol out of rottenness, 
and’ equally every race has been taught by 
Satan to gamble with something, whether 
cards, dice, colored stones, or playing mora 
with nothing but their ten fingers, which God 
gave- them to use in honest industry. The 
dice-box has slain more than the sword. Now, 
there is your shoe, and it is time for you to go 
and play for the show. If you run round to 
any more of your father’s haunts. I’ll find some 
way of making you sick of it.” 

Whim went to the show-room, and Jonas 
hammered a boot-sole to the doleful tune, 
Fallen among the Philistines, the Philistines.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 

“T’VE been having a treat to-day,” said the 
hymn-seller to Doro. “ I went to hear 
your minister. I don’t go there mostly, but 
I heard he was going to preach about the 
Bible, and so I went. It does my heart good 
to hear about the Bible. I do prize that Book. 
‘Holy Bible, Book Divine,’ that’s a hymn I 
like ; it ought to be all in capitals. The min- 
ister spoke of the oneness of the Book all 
through ; he called it something else.” 

“Unity,” suggested Jonas, who was sitting 
with Doro and Whim. 

“Exactly. Unity. It does so hang together. 
Look at the first book — Genesis. It tells of 
the creation, of the beginning; and the last 
book tells of the end of all those things then 
created. Genesis tells of the first heaven and 
earth ; Revelation tells of the new heaven and 
new earth. In Genesis we have the Tree of 


229 


230 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Life growing in Eden, and in Revelation we 
get back the Tree of Life growing in the Para- 
dise of God. Genesis tells how Satan tempted 
man, and Revelation shows Satan bound with 
all his angels in the pit. Genesis shows how 
man sinned and fell ; Revelation shows him 
at last sealed to God, following the Lamb, 
‘ sweeping through the gates of the new 
Jerusalem.’ ” 

“ What is so wonderful in a book having 
oneness or unity.?” said Jonas. “Every book 
should have that — men’s books do.” 

“But consider, Mr. Jonas, that of those parts 
of the Bible I mention one was written in 
Hebrew by a man educated in Egypt, and the 
other pretty nearly fifteen hundred years later, 
by a man educated in Greek learning and writ- 
ing in Greek. Now, is it not wonderful that 
there should be such unity in a book written 
by forty or so people, in two or three languages, 
during fifteen hundred years .? And the men 
were such different men : Moses, Daniel, 
Solomon, Paul, were very learned men indeed ; 
but Amos was a herdsman, and David was 
brought up a shepherd, and Peter was a fisher- 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 


231 


man, and so was John ; Matthew was a tax-. 
collector — a sort of folks not well thought of 
in his time. Then, look how different they 
were reared. Some of them in Egypt, some 
in Babylon, some in Jerusalem, some were 
rich and some were poor, some were fighting- 
men and some were priests ; and yet the 
Book is one, one from beginning to end. So 
I think we must see that the men didn’t 
write out of their own heads, for then they 
would have made a jumble of it ; but it is 
just as they say in the Book, that holy men 
of old wrote as they were moved by the Holy 
Ghost ; and as it is all the work of one Spirit of 
God, writing through men ; why, the Book is 
a unit. If other books were dragged out for a 
hundred years in the making, they wouldn’t 
get made at all ; but this Book moved through 
fifteen centuries to its end. It is a Book that 
never gets out of fashion, because God, who 
made it, and men, whom it was made for, don’t 
get out of fashion. Truly it says in Corinth- 
ians, ‘The fashion of this world passeth away.’ 
‘The word of the Lord abideth forever,’ says 
Peter ; and then Paul turns right round and 


232 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


hammers them two ideas together : * He that 
cloeth the will of God abideth forever/” 

“I always admitted it was a very beautiful 
book,” said Jonas; “and as I’ve been reading 
and studying it lately, I do admit it looks as 
if it must have been made by God, and by none 
other. You’ve brought out some strong argu- 
ments.” 

“ I haven’t touched the strongest of all,” said 
the hymn-seller, “and that is the effect. Oh, 
the effect of the Bible is the true and genuine 
proof that the Bible comes from God. Water 
don’t rise higher than its source, and foul foun- 
tains don’t send out pure streams. Here’s a 
book that only does good, and that continually. 
Nobody says it grew of itself ; that would be 
wild. The devil didn’t make it, for it defies the 
devil and all his works. Men didn’t make it ; 
it’s high up over all their doings and abilities. 
Who is left but God for its author.? Just 
match the work of the Bible by what we know 
about God. Take a liar ; get him converted by 
the Bible ; let him live according. Does he lie 
any more .? No ; he is true, and God is true. 
Take a thief, and let him be taught out of the 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 


233 


Bible. He quits stealing. Take a drunkard. 
How can you cure him } By teaching him to 
spell ? By giving him a geography, or telling 
him how steam-engines are made ? Oh, no ; 
but let him study the Bible till his heart is 
squared to live up to its measure, and he don’t 
drink any more. Oh, he says, I was in the 
gutter, I had wounds without cause, I cared 
for nobody. I hated my own flesh, but the 
Bible told me no drunkard shall inherit the 
kingdom of God, and said, ‘ Flee from the 
wrath to come,’ and ‘To-day if ye will hear 
his voice, harden not your hearts.’ That made 
a new man of me, and I quit drinking, and take 
care of my own, and I’m not worse than an 
infidel now, and I love every body in Jesus 
Christ. ‘By their fruits ye shall know them,’ 
says the Bible, and let us apply its own rule to 
it — and these effects of the Bible are true 
fruits of the Spirit — love, joy, peace. It is 
the Bible starts and moves along the good work 
of the world. Cut out the Bible from under 
our charities, and how many of them would 
have foundation enough to stand 

“I reckon you’re about right,” said Jonas; 


234 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


*‘but in your mention of sins to be cured by 
the Bible you haven’t laid out the worst one of 
them all, and that is gaming.” 

He spoke with a view to the benefit of Whim. 

“You speak of that, Jonas,” said Doro. 

“Gaming,” said Jonas, “is lying; gaming is 
stealing; gaming brings on beggary, cruelty, 
neglect and ruin of families, suicides, murders, 
just as that drinking does. It begins in two 
things — laziness and love of combat. Soldiers 
have in all ages been given to gaming. I 
read the other day of a Prince of Orange who 
gambled away all the money the Emperor 
Charles Fifth sent him to pay his soldiers, 
and, the soldiers rebelling for lack of pay, the 
Prince had to make what terms he could with 
the city of Florence. Dr. Johnson says it is 
indolence, vacuity, that sets men at gaming ; 
they need money, are too lazy to earn it, desire 
unearned money, and so gamble. I remember 
Aristotle says gamblers are to be put with 
thieves and plunderers, wjio for gain do not 
scruple to rob their best friends.” 

Jonas did not know how closely this remark 
fitted the case of Granby, who had robbed his 
trusting patron. 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 


235 


“I mind,” went on Jonas, “a story of 
Roman history, that tells of the Emperor 
Didius Julianus, who trampled on the bloody 
body of Pertinax. Julianus was in such a 
hurry to get to his dice-playing that he could 
not notice his predecessor’s corpse. I have 
thought gamesters are just like that; they 
will trample on their own flesh and blood and 
not know it, they are so bound up in their 
favorite vice.” 

‘‘ I don’t see,” said Whim, “ why gambling 
need make a man a monster, any more than 
drink need make him a drunkard. He might 
know how to rule himself, and pPay and drink 
moderately.” 

“That’s theory, that ‘he might’; the prac- 
tice is just the other way. Owing to the 
weakness of human nature, men don’t stop in 
a vice at moderation. The story of drink is to 
make a drunkard ; the story of a gambler is to 
become one of the ‘cursed children, without 
natural affection, fateful and hating one an- 
other.’ He who begins to gamble lights an 
infernal flame.” 

“I don’t see why,'' persisted Whim. “A 


236 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


man, if he had sense, might depend on science 
for his winnings, and set a mark where he 
would stop, and say he had enough.” 

“Almost all gamesters,” said Jonas, “have 
some season of winning, yet no one of them is 
on record who stopped as a winner. Invariably 
they play to win more and more, and end by 
losing all. There is a story of a French gam- 
bler who lost his all and was beggared. He 
went weeping to his sister, vowing he never 
would game again. She gave him some money 
to redeem his coat and boots, and pay a week’s 
board ; he at once returned to the gambling- 
house with it. He began to win, and broke 
the bank. The play was stopped for the day, 
and he, having a large sum, went and bargained 
with a hotel-keeper and clothier, and paid them 
money to keep him boarded and clad for ten 
years, as he said he knew he could not and 
would not stop play, and unless he secured 
safety by this accident, he would die of starva- 
tion. An English nobleman lost all his estates 
by gaming, won them back and at once deeded 
them in trust, so that they should be out of his 
power, for he said he knew he should go on 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 


237 


playing again and lose all he had. Those who 
have gambled most, who know all about the 
deadly fascination of gaming, know they are 
not going to stop.” 

Such were the warnings and instructions 
Whim got at home. His father did not deal 
in the dry and didactic; he gave Whim brill- 
iant object-lessons. Calls at the Conservatory 
were repeated. That fine house where Doro 
had hindered her brother from going soon 
received him. His father took him out for 
a walk, and “showed him through it.” Whim 
felt his social standing vastly improved by 
going into a place so richly furnished, where 
there were men in livery. He did not know 
that this was only a gilded gate of perdition, 
the house of a professional gambler, who lived 
by fleecing people, and that Granby was 
admitted because he was a decoy or stool- 
pigeon, and hunted up men with more money 
than wit or principles, and brought them there 
to be robbed. Granby told Whim that this was 
one of the “first men in Boston,” and “his 
particular friend.” Then one night, when 
there was to be a concert at the Conservatory, 


238 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

and Whim started off ostensibly to go there, he 
met his father by private appointment, and 
they went to the Spider’s Parlor.” Whim’s 
head was turned. He thought the house mag- 
nificent, and that its master must be one of the 
happiest men in the world. He was flattered 
by all the guests ; he had his violin, and played 
for them, with great applause. 

“ The little fool intends to make his living 
by music ; it is the height of his ambition to be 
a first violin,” said Granby to the company, 
sneeringly. 

“ Oh, he must never be that ! ” they cried, 
with one accord ; “ never ! He can be an ama- 
teur, by all means ; but a gentleman can not be 
a musician. Look higher, my boy ! ” 

Whim did not see the irony of gamblers telling 
him to look higher than music, and laying down 
the law what gentlemen could do. His father 
whispered in his ear that all this luxury and 
pleasure came from “ a few gentlemanly games 
played on scientific principles among friends.” 
Whim was foolish enough to believe it. When 
tirhe came for him to leave before the rest, so 
that Doro’s suspicions might not be awakened. 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 


239 


the owner of the house offered him five dollars 
for his music. “Thank you,” said Whim, “I 
can not take it. I did not come on an engage- 
ment, but as a guest, and am glad to add my 
part to the evening’s pleasure. Besides, you 
have just told me that a gentleman plays only 
as an amateur, and not for money.” 

“ Bravo ! bravo ! ” shouted the select circle. 

“ Here's a little chevalier ! here’s pluck ! 
here’s true mettle for you ! ” Whim felt ex- 
cessively flattered. 

“Since you will not take money,” said the 
house-master, obligingly, “ here’s a quarter of 
a ticket in the Louisiana State Lottery, and I 
hope it may win you a prize. The drawing will 
be the first of May. You would be well off 
with five thousand dollars.” 

Five thousand dollars ! Whim’s head whirled. 
He went home elated as if that money were in 
his pocket. He dreamed of five thousand dol- 
lars ; he thought of it all day. “ What use to 
save up dollars, and such little sums, for that 
debt } He would sweep it all off when he got 
five thousand dollars. When he got five 
thousand dollars, he would lay by fifty, to 


240 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


buy other tickets, to win more money ; and he 
would have money to take Doro a little trip to 
the shore — and father, too ; only it was a pity 
Doro could not get on with father. Father was 
well enough if you knew how to take him.” 
Granby saw what hold this lottery ticket had 
taken of Whim’s mind, and he fed the fire. 
He spoke as if Whim were sure of getting it, 
and he planned how it should be spent all for 
Whim. Now, that was more agreeable than 
Doro, who, when Whim tried to plan with her 
about being rich, either warned him to wait till 
he earned riches, or told him not to love 
money, or planned how debts were to be paid 
and money given in charity. That was what 
Doro liked money for ; but — his father was 
a man who knew something of life. Under 
the double pressure of these great expectations 
of unearned money, and the bewildering fasci- 
nations of the places where his father surrep- 
titiously took him. Whim began to neglect his 
music. Hours when he ought to be practising 
he was at nefarious places with his father, 
learning games. Granby was careful not to 
disgust the boy with gaming, by letting him 


THE FA MO C/S CEEMONA. 


241 


play and lose prematurely. Doro knew noth- 
ing of Whim’s negligence in study ; he could 
keep beyond others with almost no study, so 
largely was he gifted, and he was always 
promptly off to his work, and, if he came in 
late, the reason was always that he had been 
at the Conservatory.” Doro never guessed 
that Whim was indulging in subterfuges and 
prevarication. Doro’s character was clear as 
the sun : she did not understand how one could 
falsify. She knew Whim was changed ; there 
was an excitement in his manner, a restless, 
expectant gleam in his eye, a wild “ planning ” 
in his talk, and less of cordial frankness. What 
was at the root of this, she could not tell ; 
neither could Jonas. While the case was 
beyond human wisdom and helping, Doro had 
one strong refuge — she had prayer, and she 
laid hold of heaven for Whim’s safety. 
Heaven sometimes answers our prayers in 
long and indirect ways, possibly because in 
some cases these are the surest ways. 

One day while Granby was “ planning ” with 
Whim what they should do with the five-thou- 
sand prize coming from the lottery, Granby 


242 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


said, “You can get a first-class violin — some- 
thing worth having.” 

“ I’ve got a violin,” said the incautious 
Whim. 

“ Oh, yes ; but you hardly know what a first- 
class violin is. I mean something good, not a 
mere forty or fifty-dollar fiddle. One of Bank’s 
or Forster’s. Your grandfather had a genuine 
Stradivarius.” 

“I know it — and I’ve got it,” said the heed- 
less Whim. 

“ What ! Where did you get it } It is 
worth a pot of money.” 

“Yes, I know; two thousand dollars. It 
was sent to Doro for me, and she gave it to me 
last summer.” 

When Granby heard that for three years 
Doro had really had that costly treasure in 
the house — in her room, and he had never 
thought of seeking in ' that little cell for hid 
treasure, he was mad with rage. He did not 
indicate to Whim his fury at having missed 
the chance of robbing him of his all, but he 
made hints and objections, and said Doro was 
a fool and had fooled him. Whim told how 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 


243 


the precious violin had been shown to the 
Director, and by him recognized and admired, 
and bestowed in a safe deposit vault, insured. 
The next thing was to get the violin out. 
Granby wanted to see it — he said he wanted 
his friends to see it. Whim would create a 
stunning sensation if he went to that fashion- 
able house and played on a genuine Stradi- 
varius. He must do it ; he must insist on his 
right to take the violin out to play on at the 
Conservatory concert, and, once out, he could 
bring it to the indicated house. Granby did 
not say that he meant to keep Whim and the 
violin there, until he had played high for all 
they were worth. • 

But Whim found Doro impracticable about 
the instrument. She consulted Jonas, and 
Jonas suspected a snare. Then she went to 
the Director, and asked if he desired Whim to 
play on his choice violin, and he told her to 
leave that where it was safe. Whim’s instru- 
ment was good enough. Moreover, he said it 
was industry and enthusiasm that Whim 
needed, more than the Cremona ; he neglected 
work sometimes, and was often in the streets 


244 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


when he ought to be working at passages in 
the choral symphony. 

Doro went home heart-sick. 

Whim, when questioned, vowed he was work- 
ing himself to death, and the Director was an 
old grumbler, quite unappeasable. 

“ Get the violin yourself,” said his father ; 
“go to the Deposit Company and say it is 
your property, and you are sent for it, and I 
will go along to vouch for you. I can write a 
little note in your sister’s name. It will not do 
to let her lead you round by the nose this way.” 

Whim was so enraged at not being allowed 
to exploit his own violin, that he failed to see 
that his father had proposed to him a forging of 
Doro’s hand and name. They carried out the 
plan, and asked with aplomb for the violin, and 
Granby handed over a note signed “Dorothea 
Granby,” and requesting that the instrument 
should be given to bearer. 

“We have just been warned not to let that 
violin be taken by anybody, on any written 
order ; to give it to no one but Miss Granby 
personally, coming accompanied by the Direc- 
tor of the Conservatory.” 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 


245 


‘‘ Who warned you ? ” asked Granby. 

“ Person named Jonas.” 

“ He is a meddler. This lad owns the violin, 
and I am his father.” The Deposit Company 
did not seem favorably impressed with the 
father. The Company remarked that ‘‘Miss 
Granby must really come in person.” 

“Then return her note,” said Granby. 

The “Company” returned the note reluct- 
antly, and then repented ; but Granby tore it 
up promptly. Whim had * not noticed that 
young Jonas was sitting in a corner, looking 
over some papers. The back of young Jonas 
was turned to the general public ; but he was 
a sharp young man, and saw and heard all that 
went on. He repaired to 97 Andover Street, 
and told Doro what had happened. Then Doro 
knew that snares were prepared for Whim by 
his father, and that perhaps she must choose 
between having her brother ruined or defend- 
ing him by extreme measures. She waited up 
for her father, and charged him with his evil 
work in regard to Whim. 

“If you will not let him entirely alone,” said 
Doro, “ I must tell our whole story to Jonas and 


246 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

my minister, and take their advice as to how I 
can save my poor boy.” 

If you betray me to a cobbler and a priest, 
and get me into a penitentiary, that will be 
Christian work.” 

“ It seems to be that, or let you betray Whim 
to perdition. I don’t wish to get you into the 
State Prison ; but being there would not make 
you any worse, nor destroy your soul, but put- 
ting Whim with gamblers will destroy his soul. 
If it is a question of your liberty or his ruin, I 
must forget you are my father. I don’t know 
where to have Whim put to get him out of your 
hands. You know you will give Whim wine, 
and create in him a taste for drink. My boy 
shall not be made a drunkard. Won’t you 
please to run away, father Can’t you goto 
some other city — far from Whim } ” 

No, Granby couldn’t and wouldn’t. Where 
else could he get his board and washing free, 
and be nursed when he was ill, and waited on, 
when well, like a lord ? Besides, he had set his 
heart on having Whim bring him luck. If 
Whim dealt the cards, he knew he would win. 
He plotted subtly. 


THE FAMOUS CREMONA. 247 

“ If Whim is willing to break with me, I am 
with him. He can take his choice. I won’t 
cast off my son.” 

O magnanimous parent ! 

Then Doro, eager to save Whim and not 
attack her parent, addressed herself to Whim. 
With tears, supplications, tenderness, argu- 
ments, she besought him to withdraw from 
that deadly association, and devote himself 
ardently to his chosen life. She brought all 
the power she had to bear on Whim, and she 
might have succeeded had not the gambler 
been beforehand with her, and arranged with 
Whim what course to take. As it was. Whim 
was much moved by Doro’s prayers and her 
goodness, and he made up his mind not to 
gamble, not to get into debt, not to do a good 
many evil things ; but he did not make up his 
mind to break the dangerous company, and 
pursue an upright course. He said he would 
attend faithfully to his work would go to no 
more places with his father ; would not walk 
out with him ; would not be in his society. 
Granby had told him to say all this. Women 
are all nervous fools,” said Granby ; you don’t 


248 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


want the girl to make herself ill fretting. She 
is good enough in her way, but narrow and 
cowardly, like all her sex. She don’t know 
what she is talking about. She don’t under- 
stand me. It is horrible to be an enemy of 
your own father! You must tell her what will 
satisfy her. It is a case for a little inno- 
cent white-lying.” Somehow this white-lying 
seemed very amusing to Whim. He and his 
father arranged what they called “a little 
drama.” There was a lad at the Conservatory 
named Orrin Winn. His home was ten miles 
out of the city ; he came in daily, taking sing- 
ing lessons ; he was a lad of some genius, and 
of very excellent habits. With this boy Whim 
undertook to deceive Doro. He brought him 
once to see the wax, and Doro liked him very 
much. Then Whim pretended to a very vio- 
lent affection for Winn, and told great tales of 
their intimacy. Every day something more 
about Winn ; h'e walked with Winn, he 
stayed to practise with Winn, he was invited 
to ^visit Winn. Doro asked the Director 
privately about Winn, and was told he was 
an excellent friend for her brother. Moreover, 


THE FAMOUS CEEMOHA. 


249 


she heard that Whim had mended his ways, 
and was diligent. Doro was uninitiated in 
wiles, and her heart found rest. At this time, 
the Director, having been enlightened by 
Jonas as to Granj^y’s character, met him as 
he passed the office one day, and quietly for- 
bade him the premises. This added fuel to the 
gambler’s revengeful flames. Whim, on his 
part, resolved to “see life with his father,” 
and hold by his music. Gratitude impelled 
him to do something to please Doro ; he really 
loved music, and the reproaches of his masters 
shamed him, while the opportunities given him 
of performing in public stirred his ambition. 

Under his father’s direction was played the 
“amusing comedy of Orrin Winn.” Granby 
took the name of Winn. He was very funny, 
indeed, talking of his voice, of his home in the 
country, of his parents, and calling himself 
Winn. Now, whenever Whim told his sister 
he had been with his new friend, Winn, walk- 
ing, practising, or even at his house all night, 
how was Doro to imagine that he had really 
been with his disastrous parent 1 


CHAPTER XIV. 


HE FELL AMONG THIEVES. 

A ND SO was Whim daily initiated into that 
^ hideous vice that slinks and skulks from 
the light of day and “ in holes and corners, like 
a poisoned rat,” lies hidden in its own perdi- 
tion. In that grim den where he had first 
been taken he became familiar with the rou- 
lette and rouge et noir tables ; at that fashion- 
able residence of one of the first gentlemen of 
the city, he ceased to feel horror or disgust or 
fear or condemnation of faro, basset, or haz- 
ard, and he found that at the elegant and 
scientific game of “ whist ” a thousand dollars 
or so may be fleeced from the unwary of a sin- 
gle evening, while, curiously enough, almost all 
the “ strangers in the city,” whom his father 
amiably introduced to this generous host, lost 
all that was in their pockets at “poker” or 
“old sledge.” Yet Whim did not wake up to 
realize that he would be safer running over a 
250 


HE FELL AMONG T/J/EVES. 


251 


road laid with red hot ploughshares than over 
this road which under his father’s tutelage he 
was treading, or that his father was a scoundrel 
and a stool-pigeon, and his companions were 
the vilest blacklegs in the city. 

At this time Granby made what he called 
two new friends — a young clerk in a commis- 
sion merchant’s office, and a middle-aged man, 
who had been for years in South America, 
where he said he had “ made a pot of money.” 
The clerk was a heedless, self-confident young 
fellow ; the elder man had no relatives and 
almost no acquaintances. Granby introduced 
them to each other, — seemed intimate with 
both, — took them to walk or ride in the sub- 
urbs, to see the lions, called on them, took 
Whim to see them and to play for them, and 
Whim, not knowing that in his boyish attract- 
iveness and frankness, he was serving as his 
father’s decoy, escorted the strangers through 
the Conservatory, gave them tickets to a con- 
cert, and was very agreeable. It was several 
weeks before he saw any indications of these 
men being invited to either of his father’s 
haunts. At the rooms of the elder man. Burg, 


252 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


Granby, Whim, Burg, and the clerk Cary 
sometimes made a party at whist, and his 
father could not enough praise Whim’s quick- 
ness at that game. Thus was Whim hurried 
on to learn the bitter lesson that the gambler 
lives on the vices of his neighbors, and dies of 
his own. 

The game of faro is a notorious fraud, of 
which none but professional gamblers know the 
secrets, and by which they invariably plunder 
all non-professional players. Having assured 
a victim that the game is fair, square, and 
scientific, they assert that he knows all about 
it, plays with them on even terms, and then 
proceed to rob him of his all. This was the 
method used by Granby with the foolish and 
inexperienced clerk Cary. Whim, going with 
his father one evening to the gaming-house 
where he had first seen the fated “green 
table,” found young Cary there, evidently 
grown accustomed to the scene. Whim’s visits 
were but occasional, as Doro and Jonas 
watched him closely. Whim, coming fresh 
from pure air and innocent surroundings 
into this mouth of perdition, had a clear 


HE FELL AMONG THIEVES. 


253 


brain and an observing eye to bring to bear 
upon his surroundings. He saw that young 
Cary was flushed, voluble, excited, had been 
drinking wine, and seemed in a state of mingled 
fear and exultation. He was also evidently en- 
tirely in the hands of the “professionals,” and 
thought himself “sharp,” “manly,” “knowing,” 
while they manipulated him like wax. Whim’s 
Sabbath-school teacher had succeeded in getting 
his class to learn almost the whole Book of 
Proverbs — The Young Men’s Book, he called 
it. Whim had a retentive memory, and, as he 
beheld his young friend Cary, he seemed to 
see his portrait forecast long ago by the 
“Preacher”: “Among the simple ones, I dis- 
cerned among the youths, a young man void 
of understanding. . . . With much fair speech 
they caused him to yield, with the flattery of 
the lips they forced him. He goeth after them 
straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or 
as a fool to the correction of the stocks ; till a 
dart struck through his liver : as a bird hasteth 
to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his 
life.” Hitherto when Whim had looked on at 
the gaming he had not been particularly inter- 


254 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


csted in the fortunes of the game, but, seeing 
young Cary in a place he might soon occupy 
himself, and feeling that this was a crisis in his 
life. Whim looked on with doubly sharpened 
wits. He saw now, for the first time, the im- 
mense advantages clearly reserved for the 
banker, and the abundant means open to him 
of private cheating if he chose, and what honor 
was there among such a gang of thieves, honor 
to prevent cheating } Whim saw too that all 
the players, of whom his father was one, were 
in collusion against this one wretched young 
man ; he also remarked that Cary had a great 
deal more money to play with than he as a 
young clerk could be expected honestly to pos- 
sess. Cary played at first boldly, hopefully, 
then eagerly and defiantly. The odds insen- 
sibly stole upon him at every pull from the b^^- 
ginning ; but the players lured him on with 
jokes, encouragement, defiances, provocations. 
He became fierce, tremulous, frantic. He 
drank more wine, he became reckless, he was 
mad. His eyes flamed, his face contracted, his 
hands shook, his long hair hung dank about his 
face, he bit his lips till red drops ran down 


HE FELL AMONG THIEVES. 


255 


along his chin. Whim, behind his father’s 
chair, watched the frightful spectacle. Granby, 
in his fury, had forgotten the presence and ob- 
servant state of his son. Finally, with an oath, 
Cary flung down a stake. Whim had been 
trained to abhor swearing, he had never before 
heard profanity from Cary, but the profanity 
now seemed the legitimate offspring of this 
atmosphere, surcharged with vice. Cary 
watched the play with blood-shot eyes and 
foaming lips. He lost, just as he had lost 
all the evening ; the long lean hand of the 
croupier with his little rake — like the talons 
of a bird of prey, or the loathsome harpies that 
swept down on the dinner of the Trojans, 
whirled Cary’s last stakes into the greedy maw 
of the bank ! 

Cary gazed as if transfixed at the vanishing 
notes. Then he sprang up, with a cry like a 
wild beast. His words were inarticulate, his 
‘^ruin” and “shame” and “death” seemed to 
be among them. The scene froze Whim’s 
generous young blood, but was beheld with 
sneering indifference by the authors of the 
ruin. Cary frantically searched all his pockets, 


256 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


as if looking for money, and found none. His 
disappointment was greeted with a shout of 
derision — “ Cleaned out, my bird ? ” 

P'or the love of heaven, give me fifty cents, 
some one.” 

But there was no love of heaven there — 
only the hate of hell, and its triumph in a fel- 
low-sinner’s agony. 

“ Go along ; your bed’s secure ; go sleep it 
off. Try again.” 

Whim supposed blindly that Cary wanted 
money for a bed or supper. He had fifty 
cents. He thrust it into his hand. ‘‘Here it 
is, Cary. Go home. This will get a bed.” 

“A bed!” shrieked Cary; “a bed I Yes, a 
grave for me ; that is all my chance. A bed I 
Laudanum, you mean ! ” 

He dashed out of the door. 

Whim saw what he had done — he had given 
his friend money to buy poison for suicide I 
He felt guilty of murder. With a cry of “ Oh, 
Cary, Cary I ” he rushed after him ; but longer 
legs than his pursued him, a pair of arms 
gripped him and dragged him back. “ Boy I 
what are you at ? Will you bring the police 


HE FELL AMONG THIEVES. 


257 


on us, screaming, * Cary ! ’ in the streets ? Let 
him alone ; he’ll be back to-morrow.” 

Whim dropped supinely into the chair his 
father had assigned him. An awful sickness 
overpowered him ; he saw Cary lying dead. 
He saw Cary’s parents moaning over their 
son’s dishonored grave. He shivered as in 
an ague. Oh, to get out of that den ! 

“ I must go home,” he said, faintly. Oh, 
father, let me go ! Doro will look for me : it is 
getting late.” 

It was not Granby’s plan to disgust Whim 
with the gaming-house. He spoke kindly, 
joked, laughed, led him to the street, made 
light of “ Cary’s little adventure.” 

“ It was not ‘ little,’ ” contradicted Whim ; 
‘‘he gets five hundred salary ; he supports him- 
self ; he gambled away a thousand dollars ; it 
means robbery and state prison.” 

“Go home, milk-sop ! ” said Granby, angrily. 

The reasonable forecast of Cary’s fate would 
now be that he took the laudanum, and perished 
a disgraced suicide. No other end seemed be- 
fore him. But by various small incidents the 
lines of our fates are deflected as heaven wills. 


258 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Cary lived in a boarding-house. The boarding- 
house was that night unusually full, and the 
landlady took the liberty of putting a young 
man in Cary’s room and bed. This young 
man, a good fellow, knew Cary a little, and 
suspected that he was getting wrong. When 
Cary came in, his entrance half roused the 
unexpected bed-fellow, who, to sleep the sooner, 
did not speak. Cary scarcely noticed him, but 
moaned and groaned, and ejaculated until he 
had roused not only the sleeper but strong 
suspicions. Finally, after long hesitations — 
dreading alike to live or die, Cary poured the 
laudanum down his throat. His fellow-lodger 
leaped up to prevent him. “ What are you 
taking, Cary } ” 

Medicine.” 

“ Reckless medicine-taking,” said the other, 
and wrestled for the empty bottle. 

“ It is laudanum ; you have tried to kill your- 
self!” 

He dragged Cary to his bed, and, half-dressed, 
rushed for the landlady, and sent for a doctor. 
Immediate and vigorous exertions saved Cary ; 
by morning he was out of danger, but terrified 


HE FELL AMONG TH/E FES. 2^g 

at the idea of living. His friend left him under 
strong guard, and went to Cary’s employer. It 
happened that this commission merchant was 
Cary’s relative, and a Christian man. He went 
at once to the culprit, and secured a full con- 
fession. While he labored for the good of 
Cary’s soul, he also labored to repress sin, by 
destroying the den of wild beasts where the 
youth had been made a prey. He sent a full 
account of the affair to the police, and a raid 
was prepared. This haunt of Granby’s was 
always infested with sharpers. With horrible 
diligence in iniquity they kept open night and 
day. Granby was seldom there in the morning, 
he having a penchant for morning slumbers, 
and a craftiness in alluring, fresh victims, in 
search of whom he spent mornings in streets 
or hotels. Whim rose up that morning with a 
terrible remembrance of the previous night’s 
scene. Instead of warning him from the den, 
this memory seemed to drag him to the horror 
that made him shiver and tremble. He wanted 
to know what was there going on. He won- 
dered if Cary would go back, like the burnt 
moth to the candle. He wanted to hear news. 


26 o 


JN BLACK AND GOLD. 


He craved the very horrors that had sickened 
him — a morbid passion for excitement drew 
him on. Instead of going to the Conservatory 
he turned aside, and for the first time went 
alone to the “gambling-hell.” He was known, 
and admitted. Thus it happened that not 
Granby but Whim was in the den, upon which 
the police were bent for a raid. The gamblers 
were already about the green table ; some hag- 
gard and weary-eyed from all-night vigils ; 
many of them inflamed with wine or brandy. 
The air was thick with smoke and liquor fumes, 
the gas burned dimly in the heavy atmosphere. 
Suddenly there was a cry, a shout, a warning 
roar of “ Police, police ! ” A rush of heavy 
feet, a crash of strong and angry men against 
the door ! Incontinently the uproar grew. 
Every man snatched for what money was in 
his reach. Some turned out the gas, the tables 
were upset, wine spilled, glasses and bottles 
shattered, notes and markers and trays and 
rakes flew in all directions ; the gamblers scuf- 
fled with one another, scrambled over one an- 
other, stooped to dart under the arms and 
between the legs of the invaders, who turned 


HE FELL AMONG TH/E FES. 26 1 

the dazzling glare of their lanterns upon the 
suddenly made darkness ; blows, oaths, pande- 
monium broken lose. Meanwhile Whim, intent 
only on escape, having no interest in the money- 
snatching, terrified lest he should be arrested, 
and Doro’s heart should thereby be broken, 
sprang over the sprawling and scrambling 
humanity on the floor, and leaped in behind 
a little sideboard that stood across a corner — 
a deceptive little sideboard, that looked as if 
it were triangular and was not. There was 
just room for Whim to hide there. Thus he 
escaped notice. The paraphernalia was gath- 
ered up, the gamblers were most of them se- 
cured with their booty upon them, a cursory 
examination was given to the room, and the 
police marched off their prey, locking the door 
behind them. The keeper of the whole house 
was among the arrested. This man had, how- 
ever, a confederate in his wife, who had taken 
refuge in the coal-hole at the first alarm. Out 
of this black retreat she came when the house 
was empty, and, having extra keys, went at 
once to the gambling-room to see if any 
plunder of stray bank bills and bits of silver 


262 


A. BLACK AND COLD. 


or jewelry might remain in nooks and corners 
for her. She very naturally saw a companion 
in misfortune in Whim, condoled with him, and 
let him out the back way. Whim hurried 
home to warn his father. Doro was at market ; 
Granby was taking his strong coffee ; Maggie 
was growling to her pots and pans, — all favored 
Whim. He reported affairs to his father, said 
he was sick, and went to bed. He was sick; 
he felt sick of gamblers and gaming, sick of 
sin, sick of his wavering, weak-principled self. 
Unhappily, it was but a momentary sickness, 
soon passing off and soon forgotten. The 
mask was off the gambling. Whim would 
never, never go to the den again. For a fort- 
night he sedulously avoided his father, and 
gave all his time to Doro and to his music. 

But while the lately raided den had never 
had for Whim any attractions save those 
of prurient curiosity, the “elegant establish- 
ment” of the “first-class gentleman,” the 
“ private house ” with its splendors, fascinated 
him. There he saw luxuries, style, splendors 
of living which suited his dashing taste. The 
perfumed air, the long conservatory, the splen* 


HE FELL AMONG TH/E FES. 263 

did furnishings, the music, the pictures, the 
abundant lights, the flippant wit, the delicacies 
of the table, these bewitched the boy, who had 
not enough moral stamina to loath them for 
the sin that permeated them. This house was 
the one to lure him back towards ruin. When 
the impression made by Cary’s miserable fall 
and near destruction had worn away, while he 
would never think of the circumstances and 
place of that miserable crime without a shud- 
der, he soothingly told himself that at the other 
place all was “ honorable, scientific, above board, 
gentlemanly.” He laid this flattering unction 
to his soul because he wished to believe it, and 
to go back to the temptations, delusions, and 
entertainments there found. 

He went back with his father. He was 
kindly welcomed, and his prospects for a May 
prize from his lottery ticket were merrily dis- 
cussed. 

Cary he had never seen since that fatal night 
when he so nearly stumbled into destruction. 
Cary’s lesson had been effectual, if severe. 
The serpent for him had cured the bite of the 
serpent, and he was no longer void of under- 


264 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Standing. Whim did not see Cary again until 
after many years, when he came to ask for the 
help of ids violin in a great concert given in aid 
of a charity by the Young Men’s Christian As- 
sociation. 

Instead of Cary, Whim found Burg, evidently 
intimate with his father’s “ gentlemanly and 
wealthy friend.” He had become one of the 
habitues of the house, and received much atten- 
tion. His stories of South America were lis- 
tened to and applauded, and his views consulted 
on all occasions. Whim wondered if another 
phase of the Cary story was to be developed. 
He watched ; he could not tell. He seemed 
mostly to play at billiards or whist. But there 
was a little room beyond the conservatory, 
where people sometimes withdrew, and Whim 
had not been admitted. What was there he 
did not know. 

On his third visit to this house, after the 
Cary disaster. Whim noticed that Burg seemed 
more than usually excited by wine, and inclined 
to be fierce over his billiards ; there was a good 
deal of bravado and taunting, and finally the 
master of the house and Granby, Burg, and 


HE FELL AMONG TH/E FES. 265 

several others retired to the well guarded small 
room. The remaining men sat down to a 
game of cards, and Whim, left alone, wandered 
about the conservatory. He had told Doro he 
was going to be all night with Orrin Winn. 
This lie to his trusting sister hung heavy on 
his soul. In the quiet of the conservatory his 
ill deed and his dangers rose up to confront 
him. His feet were set in slippery places, he 
felt himself sliding to irretrievable ruin. He 
wished he could fly far from his father, and 
eschew forever those dangerous haunts. He 
scorned and hated himself. A colored servant 
came by, the especial trusted butler of the 
establishment. Whim asked what was going 
on in the small room. 

“ It’s a hazard-table, sah.” 

“ What is that ? ” asked Whim. 

“Dice-throwing, sah. Don’t play it myself, 
knows too much about it, sah, and hasn’t a 
fortune to lose like the bucks. The boss is 
‘ groom porter ’ in there, an’ your father is ‘ cas- 
ter,’ and Massa Burg gwine to git fleeced, sah, 
if I knows any thing about it. He’ll cut his 
eye-teeth expensive.” 


266 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Whim felt sick. He was tired ; it was after 
midnight. 

About one o’clock, the door of the hazard- 
table room burst open, and the men came out. 
Burg was ghastly pale. He stopped in the 
middle of the conservatory and said quietly, “ I 
have lost my last dollar — the whole earnings 
of my life. I made up my mind not to outlive 
my fortune if I lost. It is gone. Ich gehe 
unter!'^ He passed his hand across his 
mouth, looked fixedly at the bystanders, and 
in a moment fell on his face. 

With a cry of terror they raised him ; his 
closed hand held a little vial. The master of 
the house looked at it. It held the swifestt 
and deadliest of poisons. 

‘‘There’s no hope for him. He has truly gone 
under,” he said; “what are we to do with it?'* 

It was the dead body of their victim. 

A hasty agreement was made to take the body 
across to the Public Garden and place it on 
the grass. The vial in the hand would explain 
the suicide. The ground was dry, and the 
night was dark. The lamps were giving but 
a dim light in the street. 


HE FELL AMONG T///EFES. 267 

Granby and the colored man were appointed 
to take away the body, and they did so, support- 
ing it as a drunken person between them. 

Whim, wild with the horror of the scene, 
fled the house. His father and these compan- 
ions of his were, he felt, the real murderers of 
this man, as much as if they had fired a shot 
through his heart. He thought of that dead 
body chilling on the grass of the Public Garden ; 
he considered what eternity that rash soul had 
found, rushing uncalled into the presence of 
the mighty Judge. He wandered about in an 
agony until he could no longer support himself 
on his trembling legs. He wanted to run away 
from Boston. He thought of his lottery ticket. 
If he got the prize of five thousand he would 
escape — he would tell Doro all, and hurry far 
from these deadly associations and try and lead 
a good life. He did not consider that Doro’s 
first requirement would be that he should re- 
sign the prize-money, the wages of unrighteous- 
ness, and that he could not begin a good life 
by living on the fruit of robbery. Hovyever, he 
had not yet won the prize-money, and what he 
needed most of all now was a resting-place. 


268 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


He stopped and looked about. The moon 
was just rising, and he stood before the mar- 
vellous beauty of Trinity Church. Solemn, 
still, pure in the growing light rose the house 
of God. It seemed in some sort an earnest of 
repose, of shelter, of peace. After that terrible 
gate of the pit, where he had spent the evening, 
this heaven-pointing tower, this gate of the 
Lord’s house, this consecrated place, in the 
midst of the turmoil of the city, soothed him, 
comforted him. It had never appeared so beauti- 
ful to him before. It seemed like the 1 22d Psalm 
wrought in stone. He crept into the shadow 
of the pillared porch, crouching against the 
door, gathered up for warmth in the early 
morning chill, and to seclude himself from the 
eyes of passers-by. He tried to feel less guilty, 
less horror-stricken, because he was in “ a 
good place.” He saw, here and there, church- 
towers lifting above the yet leafless trees and 
against the blue, starry sky. Oh, how he 
wished he had never, never strayed from the 
teachings he had heard in the churches ! Why 
had he run greedily after sin } He sobbed, 
he tried to pray ; but yet, while terrified, he 


HE FELL AMONG TH/E FES. 269 

did not with grief and hatred of his sin turn 
to God. 

Thus, while Doro slept the sleep of innocence 
and peace, feeling that she was “ kept by the 
mighty power of God,” “ the terrors of the 
Almighty ” ‘ made Whim afraid, and Doro’s 
cherished brother lay like a vagrant on a 
threshold in the growing light of dawn. 

When day had fully come. Whim walked 
briskly about to warm himself in the sun; went 
to a restaurant for a twenty-cent breakfast ; to 
the Old Colony Depot gentlemen’s room to get 
a morning wash and brush his clothes, — for 
Whim was a gamin of the cities, and knew all 
these ins-and-outs, — and then repaired to the 
Conservatory. He worked diligently at his 
music all day, but his soul was still sick with 
terror, and again and again he found his violin 
straying off into the plaining and despairing 
“ Chorus of Lost Souls,” in the oratorio of the 

Paradise Lost.” 

“Did you have a pleasant visit. Whim,?” 
asked Doro. 

Whim started ; he had almost forgotten about 
his pretended visit to his friend Winn. He 
replied : — 


2/0 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ No ; I had a horrid time, an awful night- 
mare, a fearful dream. I think I shall never 
go there again.” 

“ Fm afraid you are sick,” said Doro. 

“Yes ; I am sick — sick of every thing.” 

“ Poor boy ! you will soon have vacation, and 
rest and change.” 

Whim watched the papers in a fever of anx- 
iety. The body of Burg had been found. 
The coroner’s inquest had returned a verdict 
of suicide, which, it was considered, had taken 
place alone in the Public Garden. Granby tried 
to gloss it over to Whim. “Burg was known 
to be partly insane. Burg had insisted on 
playing hazard. It was Burg’s own fault. 
They had offered him back all he lost, and he 
wouldn’t take it. He was mad ; bent on put- 
ting himself out of the world. It would have 
happened any way.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 

T T 7HAT could be more inhuman than Gran- 
^ ' by’s remark about poor, miserable, reck- 
less Burg’s death ? It but ill smothered over 
the terrible event to Whim. The poor boy had 
a tender heart. He was inexperienced in wick- 
edness, and he bore the burden of knowing all 
about a horrible crime which the police could 
not fully find out. It wore on him. More and 
more he longed to get “ his prize ” and escape 
from the city. He did not consider that if he 
drew that money his father would cling to him 
like a leech till all was gone. 

** The prizes were drawn yesterday,” said his 
father; will know all about them to-day; 
he gets the information from his partner in 
New Orleans. All the ticket-holders go there 
this evening to learn their luck. Come there 
with me.” 

Oh ! I can’t, I can’t,” said Whim. 


271 


2/2 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


‘‘Tush! come. You will come back with 
your pockets lined well.’' 

“You — you get it for me,” said Whim. 

“I would not answer for myself — I’m un- 
lucky ; I might play it all away in the evening, 
with the best possible intentions.” Finally, 
Whim went. 

“Your ticket.? Better luck next time, lad,” 
said his host. “You have drawn — a blank. 
You have lots of partners in distress, if that 
will do you any good.” 

The house bore no traces of the recent trag- 
edy. All was bright and lively. Burg was 
forgotten. Whim wondered how many others 
had gone in that same way, and been forgotten. 
Intending to leave each moment, he stood by 
the table and idly watched the card-playing. 
The host had found a sharper sharper than him- 
self, had lost, and was cross. The colored man 
came to light a wax taper at the gas over his 
master’s head ; carelessly he held the taper so 
that the scalding wax ran in three hot drops on 
the hand that held his cards, and, involuntarily 
starting, he dropped his hand, “showing” his 
cards, just as he had made sure of a fortunate 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 


273 


game. Infuriated by this contretemps^ the 
gambler sprang up, and hit the negro full in 
the face a tremendous blow. The man stag- 
gered, then developed the wild beast, and 
sprang at his employer as if to tear him in 
pieces. The others dragged him off, and flung 
him into the street. In the passions of the 
moment they did not realize how dangerous 
this man might be, who knew all the secrets 
of their nefarious life. It was some little time 
before they recollected. Then going to seek 
him, they found he had not returned to the 
house, but had disappeared. Meanwhile, Whim 
had taken advantage of the melee to run home. 
He was terribly disappointed about his lottery 
ticket. He had made sure he would win the 
prize, and he had planned a dozen times how he 
would spend it. He was weary and sick at 
heart. He had longed to get out of the city, 
to go for a while to the sea-side ; he had relied 
on “ his prize ” to give him the means. The 
prize was a blank. 

However, going back to the elegant private 
residence” had relieved it of some of its hor- 
rors. He was less afraid to go there again. 


274 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Two or three days after, his father came to 
him and said “his friend’' was going to give a 
little party and would give Whim twenty dol- 
lars if he would come and play the violin. 
“You can make a nice little trip on twenty 
dollars,” suggested his father. 

Whim agreed ; any thing to be able to get 
away and forget for a little time what he had 
seen and shared. 

“ The party ” was well in progress when a 
lieutenant of police and six policemen, with the 
rudely dismissed negro, rushed into the house. 
The negro had revealed the circumstances of 
Burg’s death. The police were after all con- 
cerned. Granby had expected something like 
this. It was especially important for him to 
keep out of the hands of the law. He was 
holding the stakes for a party of whist-players ; 
he incontinently darted down into the base- 
ment, out of a known and convenient back 
passage, into a rear street and, fled. Half an 
hour later a train was carrying him toward the 
North — with a view to Canada. The others 
wanted were arrested. Whim also was arrested, 
violin in hand. He protested : — 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 


275 

“ Sir, I don’t belong here - 1 am only hired 
to play for the party — I have nothing to do 
with these people.” 

Now, Whim had never once been mentioned 
by the negro ; the prisoners were satisfactorily 
numerous ; the boy looked innocent ; he might 
be released, and called for as witness when 
wanted. His name and residence being se- 
cured, he was allowed to go home. He found 
Doro sitting up ; he hugged and kissed her 
with fervor. 

“ Was it a nice party where you played } ” 
asked Doro. 

“ They are never nice, I think,” said Whim, 
with disgust ; but I was paid in advance. 
They had cards, and thought I would stake it 
— but I didn’t. Say, is father in ? ” 

No, not yet.” 

Go to bed, then ; he won’t be in. I saw 
him ; he said so.” 

Then he kissed Doro again, and said, Good- 
night.” It was meant for ‘‘good-by,” and his 
heart ached. When he got to his room, he sat 
down to take breath. He did not question 
what he was to do ; he had made up his mind. 


2/6 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


He had been found with an evil gang, under a 
heavy accusation ; he would be called on as a 
witness. His father was one of those who had 
put Burg’s body in the Public Garden. Could 
it be proved suicide } Did he really know that 
Burg put poison in his own mouth } He 
thought he knew ; but this disposing of the 
body would go heavily against all the party. 
And all Granby’s past life would be raked up. 
Son of a forger, companion of gamblers. Whim 
felt that he was ruined where he was. He 
would fly. He had his violin and twenty dol- 
lars. He packed a little satchel. He wrote a 
note to his sister : — 


Good Darling Doro : The police and the papers will tell 
you all. If I stay I must witness against my father. It will 
end in state prison for him. Burn this quick. I had nothing 
to do with it but being there. Oh 1 if I had always followed 
you, Doro, I would be all right. I promise you I will neither 
drink nor gamble. Your unhappy Whim. 

And then Whim stole out of No. 97 Andover 
Street and made his way to an early train, and 
both father and son were fugitives, and Doro’s 
home was left unto her desolate. 

When the express-train was whirling along 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 2 7 / 

westward, Whim crouched in a corner and 
looked drearily out on the landscape that swept 
past him like the canvas of a swiftly moved 
panorama. It was not yet the middle of May, 
and trees and thickets were not in full leaf. 
The gray of the early morning was brightened 
by a broad saffron band along the north-eastern 
sky, a silvery mist hung over the meadows and 
trailed along the marshy places, the grass was 
drenched and bowed with heavy dew. The 
world was not yet awake ; the plough stood in 
the brown furrow, where it had been left the 
previous night ; the cows gathered slowly to- 
ward the yards, where they would be milked 
and fed ; from the sheds marched the poultry, 
fluttering and dressing their feathers, while 
now and again the cocks stopped their prog- 
ress to crow lustily. Here and there a thin 
blue smoke wavered from some early fire, or a 
door was opened, and some one, sleepily rubbing 
his eyes, leaned out to note the passing train. 
Here was a building half-completed, where the 
workmen would soon gather ; here was a gar- 
den half-made, the spade left in the sod, waiting 
for the toiler. All these houses were homes, 


2/8 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


and the people who were in them all had some- 
thing to do, and would pursue that work all 
day, and sleep under known shelter at night. 
Whim felt more than ever like a dismal, sin- 
marked vagrant. In all the history of the 
world there was but one who had felt as he did, 
he thought, and he wretchedly repeated the 
words of Cain : My punishment is greater 
than I can bear. Behold, thou hast driven me 
out this day from the face of the earth ; and 
from thy face shall I be hid ; and I shall be 
a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth ! ” The 
world looked so wide and so dreary ; that little 
room of Doro’s looked such a haven of security, 
the work at the Conservatory so attractive ; 
Jonas, Maggie, the hymn-seller so faithful and 
honest, — even the wax people were so many 
friends, — and from all these he felt cut off for- 
ever. He told himself he should never see 
Doro again, and every minute Doro looked 
more lovely and desirable, more true, more 
comforting. She had been so good to him, and 
he had broken her heart. What would Doro 
feel when all this terrible story came out ? His 
father had said Doro was “ cowardly and nar- 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 


279 


row-minded, as all girls were.” He himself 
had said that Doro was timid and given to 
worry over things, but now he could see how 
true and brave Doro had been all the time ; 
how honest she was, how superior to all un- 
righteous gains, and faithful to what she knew 
was justice. How bravely she had opposed her 
father s sins, and tried to defend Whim against 
him ; but Whim had fallen a prey to his own 
feebleness and lack of moral purpose, rather 
than to his father’s wiles. If Whim had been 
as sturdy in defence of right as Doro was, he 
\^ould not have been led astray by his father. 
Whim saw it all now ; he was .indolent, he 
hated steady work; he was self-indulgent, he 
craved needless luxuries ; he was bewitched 
with games of chance ; he liked money without 
inquiring whether it were clean or dishonest ; 
in fact, he craved unearned money. How will- 
ing he had been to be deceived ! How he had 
deliberately blinded his own eyes and deceived 
himself ! Whim cordially hated himself, as he 
shrunk up by a window in the car, and watched 
the day grow along the world. He looked 
back on the past four months as on a dreadful 


28 o 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


dream ; the very thought of a green table made 
him sick. The ghastly dead body of Burg 
dragged out into the Public Garden, Cary’s face 
of frenzy and fury, were now before him in all 
their horror. 

Two men, who had yawned and twisted 
wearily on their seats until the day was clear, 
now turned over a seat for a table, and invited 
each other to a game of old sledge. 

“ What stakes } ” asked one. 

“ Oh, I don’t play for money ; just for amuse- 
ment.” 

“Tush ! You must play for something, or it 
is no amusement ; we’ll have stakes, if only 
pennies.” 

“ No ; I’ve put my foot down about playing 
for money. I once worked up in the lumber 
regions a whole winter — worked hard, lived 
hard, passed a dog’s life to get money to pay 
off a mortgage on my little house. After the 
log-drives in the spring, I started for home, fell 
in with some card-sharpers, and was bamboozled 
into playing with them. I lost every cent of 
my winter’s earnings — ^300. I tell you I felt 
ready to blow my brains out ! However, I 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 


281 


thought of my wife and my old mother, and 
home I went and told the truth. My mother 
had just five hundred in the world. To save my 
home she paid the mortgage, and I swore a vow 
Td never play for money, great or small, again. 
I’ve paid my old lady back, and I’ve got on 
fairly since ; but none of my money has gone 
on games since.” 

“Well, you were pretty well bitten, but I 
can’t play for nothing. Let us play for matches 
or pins, or something.” 

“ We can play for matches, then.” 

The two began to play. Whim looked at 
them. A curious sensation came over him ; 
the red hearts and the clubs and spades on the 
cards seemed spots of blood ; he fancied that 
the black marks of the same kind were traces 
of Satan’s fingers on the pasteboards. The 
kings and queens and knaves all took the faces 
of Burg, Cary, and his father. He felt really 
ill at seeing the play, and was obliged to change 
his seat so that his back could be to the two 
men. Then first he began to hope that possi- 
bly he had learned his lesson, and would hate 
gaming forevermore. However, for his peace 


282 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


and happiness it was too late. He thought he 
could never go home any more, never see his 
sister again ; he must be a wanderer all his life. 
He exaggerated to himself the results to him 
of what had happened in Boston. 

While Whim was thus going over consider* 
able distance in the cars, and wide mental expe- 
riences, rising-time had come at 97, and Doro, 
having risen, knocked, as usual, at Whim’s door. 
When she was dressed, she knocked and called 
again, and, having no answer, looked into her 
brother’s room. He had not been in bed. He 
was gone. There was his note. All the fabric 
of Doro’s hope and happiness fell in ruin around 
her. Whim was gone, and possibly before he 
went he had done some terrible thing — and 
there was her father ; of what fresh crime had 
he been guilty } Whim seemed to fear being 
called to testify about something dreadful ; he 
had fled so as not to criminate his father. 
After the first burst of anguish, Doro felt for the 
present it would be best, if Whim had gone, to 
let him get as far away as possible. She could 
look him up later. She knew that wherever 
Whim went, he could not get out of God’s 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 283 

reach. What a comfort was the omnipresence 
of God, his omniscience. Her heart took hold 
of the verse, “ If I ascend up into heaven, thou 
art there ; if I make my bed in hell, behold, 
thou art there. If I take the wings of the 
morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of 
the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, 
and thy right hand shall hold me.” She gave 
Whim and his case to God. 

Maggie was calling loudly that breakfast was 
ready, and Doro went down. She went straight 
to the door to beckon a newsboy, who was 
shouting the morning papers. The paper se- 
cured, she sat down by the breakfast-table, be- 
cause she trembled so that she could not stand. 

“Father is not in this morning,” she said to 
Maggie. 

“ Glad of it. Something good happens once 
in a while. Where is Whim } If you indulge 
that boy about lying late in the morning, you’ll 
make him just like his father. I warn you, 
Doro, I won’t wait on two such. Seems to 
me,” added Maggie, reaching after the coffee- 
pot, “you’re uncommon wild after the paper 
this morning. How your hand shakes, girl ! ” 


284 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Doro had found a column headed in staring 
capitals, “Gambling-house Horror! Was Burg 
Murdered ? A Fashionable Gamester.” 

Maggie was grumbling in a monotone : “The 
coal was bad — the coal-men were cheats. She 
liked Lehigh ; this coal was half slate. No 
matter what price you give for eggs, you will 
get stale ones mixed with the fresh. The 
butter wasn't real good butter ; it was Old 
Margines, and the grocer deserved imprison- 
ment for selling such trash. 

“ Why don’t you eat your breakfast, Doro } 
The paper will keep. I care more for the 
paper than you do, and I have to wait for mine 
till work is done. If I’d known there was no 
breakfast to be eat this morning. I’d have stayed 
in bed. I didn’t want to get up. I’m all done 
out.” 

“ I don’t feel very well,” said Doro ; “ I think 
I’ll lie down.” 

She went to the little lounge — the stool 
where Whim liked to sit beside her as she lay 
down, was near. She felt as if her heart were 
bound in iron ; she could not cry ; heavy noises 
surged in her ears. Had her father been con- 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 28 $ 

cerned in a murder ? Did Whim know it ? 
Was her father arrested ? 

“ That beats all,” said Maggie ; I knew it 
was coming. You are getting typhoid, or 
small-pox, or something. Whim will catch it ; 
the show will be spoiled — all the money used 
up, debts made, and one of you two will die. 
If it is you that dies, neither Whim nor your 
father can do any good, nor take care of them- 
selves ; if Whim dies, you won’t feel as if you 
had any thing to live for.” 

Doro heard vaguely, but the words roused 
her. She must not give up ; she must live for 
those who needed her. Whim would go to 
ruin without her. If her unfortunate father 
were in some final entanglement, she must 
stand stanchly by him. 

I’ll be better soon,” she said to Maggie ; 
“ but clear up the room, and if any persons 
come here, bring them to me.” 

About half-past nine came two policemen, 
and Maggie ushered them in. She was terribly 
alarmed. 

Does Whymper Granby, called Whim, live 
here.?" 


286 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“Yes,” said Doro, calmly, lifting herself up. 

“ We want him. Where is he } ” 

“ I don’t know. He is not in. I have not 
seen him to-day.” 

“ We have a subpoena for him.” 

“ What for .? ” 

“ To come as a witness about a gambling- 
house affair.” 

“ What had he to do with it } ” 

“ Why, he was hired to play the violin there, 
it seems, and was there when the place was 
raided last night. He said he was only a hired 
musician, and, as he gave his address, and we 
had our hands full, we let him go. If we had 
known he was Granby’s son, he would have 
been held. Do you know where Granby is } ” 

“ I have not seen him since night before 
last.” 

“Are you his daughter.?” 

“ Yes,” said Doro, with a moan. 

“ I am very sorry for you,” said one police- 
man, “but keep up heart; perhaps Burg did 
commit suicide.” 

“ Was not my father arrested .? ” asked Doro. 

“ No, he got off. He must have been watch- 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 


287 


ing, and slipped out at once. We took another 
man for Granby. He was one of those most 
wanted. You know nothing about him 

** Really, nothing at all,” said Doro, earnestly. 

“You and the woman who let us in may be 
called on to testify. Don’t try to get off ; it 
won’t pay.” 

“You will find us here whenever you want 
us.” 

“And you don’t know where your brother 
is.?” 

“No. If you find him will you let me know 
at once .? I feel terribly anxious about him. I 
am sure he has not been doing any thing about 
this. Whim is not a bad boy.” 

“ Probably he has done no more than look 
on.” 

The policemen went out. 

“ What is it all about .? ” cried Maggie. 

Doro handed her the paper. Jonas came in. 
Maggie took the paper to the kitchen. Police 
news was, next to seeing fine ladies’ fine 
clothes the delight of her life. To have a 
column of newspaper all about persons she 
knew something about — to feel that other 


288 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


columns on the other days would follow it, and 
her name would be in as witness — her name 
in print — the number where she lived in print ! 
— Maggie felt a wonderful exultation over this ; 
it gave flavor to her life. Although she had 
always cherished an enmity against Granby 
on account of his insistence in the matter of 
stiff shirts, strong coffee, late breakfasts, and 
neglect of his family, now she felt prepared to 
defend him and his character, “ Catch me 
saying any thing against folks I live with ! ” 
said Maggie, with blundering loyalty. Doro 
had destroyed Whim’s note, but she told Jonas 
all about it. “ He has gone so as not to testify 
against his father.” 

‘‘ Then it is to be feared he knows what will 
go against him. If he could speak for him, he 
would have remained.” 

“ He is so young, he did not know what 
might happen, and he got frightened.” 

“Your father makes things worse by running 
off — it makes him look guilty. He might have 
cleared himself.” 

Doro looked down, and twisted her hands to- 
gether convulsively. 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 289 

‘^Unless — there was something else against 
him,” said Jonas. 

“Oh — he — dared not come into court!” 
cried poor Doro. 

“ So ! Well, he may not be found. At all 
events, I’ll stand by you, Doro, and so will our 
old friend in the attic.” 

“You mean me?” said the hymn-seller, put- 
ting her head in. “ Oh, my poor dear little 
girl, may I come in and comfort you ? Don’t 
you remember, my child, who has said, ‘ I will 
never leave thee nor forsake thee’? Here is 
a time to prove the value of the Holy Bible. 
Don’t it say, ‘The name of the Lord is a 
strong tower : the righteous runneth into it, 
and is safe ’ ? The Lord’s children shall have a 
place of refuge, my dear. There’s a word of 
a hymn that did me a power of good : — 

“ ‘ When trouble, like a gloomy cloud, 

Has gathered thick and thundered loud, 

He near my soul has always stood. 

His loving-kindness, oh, how good ! ’ 

Don’t you despair, my dear. ‘ The Lord 
knoweth how to deliver the godly.’ ‘ The Lord 
hear thee in the day of trouble ; the name of 


290 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


the God of Jacob defend thee.’ Oh, my dear, 
there come times in our lives when all seems 
lost, and all our world is in black ruin about 
us ; but, the Lord being on our side, all troubles 
are bound to come to an end, and he will bring 
us out into a large place. Like David, my dear, 
you are crying out of the depths, and don’t for- 
get that that was just the time when the Lord 
heard him.” 

Comforted by the zeal and kindness of her 
friends, Doro had found the relief of tears. 
She buried her face in the sofa pillow and 
sobbed and cried. The hymn-seller gently 
stroked the girl’s golden hair, and nodded to 
Jonas that these tears would do her good. 

“ Oh, Mr. Jonas,” said the old woman, ‘‘have 
you ever noticed what a book the Bible is for 
the sorrowful } It says, ‘ Blessed are they that 
mourn : for they shall be comforted.’ Men may 
write books for the glad, or the learned, or the 
busy, but it is God who sent a book for the 
sorrowful. Human words have comfort for 
some, and don’t come home to others ; but the 
Bible has words that reach all. I say of the 
Bible, as the Bible of the stars, ‘There is no 


THE WAGES OF SIN. 


291 


speech nor language, where their voice is not 
heard.’” 

Jonas was looking compassionately at Doro. 

“This gets beyond me,” he said; “here’s a 
time when I want to do and say what I can’t. 
If the Bible could help me out, I wish I knew 
it better. But the fact is, I don’t understand 
it. I don’t grasp it as I did other books.” 

“ But perhaps you don’t study it as you did 
them. You don’t make a point of knowing 
what it means ; you don’t grapple with it as 
you did with your Greek and Latin ; you don’t 
put your whole mind on knowing it. You do 
that. The Bible deserves it. It is too high 
and good just to skim and nip at as if it was 
‘ Mother Goose ’ or a story-book. Dig at it.” 

“I think I must,” said Jonas, “for I come to 
times in my life that I’m not prepared to meet. 
If that book can furnish me out for such an 
occasion as this, I ought to try it.” 

Doro was one of the busy ones who have no 
time to sit down with sorrow. Her work must 
go on. The show could not stop, for who 
could tell what extra money would now be 
needed for Whim or her father } The show 


292 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


was crowded that evening. Ninety-seven An- 
dover Street had been in the paper, and the 
people came as much to look at the house, and 
speculate and talk about the missing Granby, 
as to look at the wax. Jonas shut up his shop 
and took the money in the lobby, and Maggie 
and the hymn-seller sat in a corner of the show- 
room ; but the crowd was a civil and quiet 
crowd, with only pity and gentleness for the 
pale, golden-haired little girl, and the evening 
went quietly. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE FUGITIVE. 

/^^NE man remained longer than the rest. 

He stepped up to Doro, and said, ab- 
ruptly : — 

ril give you a hundred dollars for your 
hair.” 

“I — don’t want to sell my hair,” said Doro, 
stepping back. 

Don’t alarm yourself, miss ; I’m a hair- 
dealer from street, and I came here to- 

night because I had heard about your hair from 
one of my apprentices. A customer of mine — 
a very particular lady — has ordered a suit of 
golden hair ; she wants it long and thick, and 
she is particular where it comes from. I have 
been trying to fill her order for six months, and 
I can’t. Your hair is just what I want.” 

“ It is not for sale,” said Doro. 

“At all events, there’s my card. If you 
change your mind, the bargain is open.” 

293 


294 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


The man went away, and Doro stood passing 
her hand over her silken locks and looking 
down at her shabby blue dress. She realized 
for the first time that she was almost seven- 
teen, and that the show business was a hard 
business for a young girl ; that she was part of 
the show herself, and that people came and 
looked at her as well as at the wax. “Jonas,” 
she said, “ I think I don’t like show-life any 
more. Isn’t there any way for me to get out 
of it } ” 

“ I think we’ll have to find a way before 
long,” said Jonas. 

Days passed — weeks passed — no trace of 
Whim was found. The fact is that Whim was 
not considered very important as a witness ; 
there were plenty without him, and efforts 
were not very vigorous in his pursuit. Granby 
was looked for energetically, but could not be 
discovered. He had vanished utterly. 

Not a word from Whim, and Doro pined and 
paled and pursued her little round of duties in 
her lonely home, and no longer took any com- 
fort in any thing done in wax. She grew list- 
less — she wanted to escape from her show. 


THE FUGITIVE. 


295 


One or two evenings she felt too ill to exhibit, 
and the hymn-seller took her place. That 
quaint and chatty little woman had easily 
learned her part, and her brisk fire of remarks, 
interlarded with free quotations of poetry, 
pleased the audience well. They laughed at 
the little woman ; they had always taken Doro 
seriously, because she took herself so seriously. 

During this time Whim fled on the cars as 
far as his twenty dollars would take him, then 
he addressed himself to earning his living by 
his violin. He avoided great towns, but went 
through the villages, and gave violin concerts 
in hotel parlors or public-rooms, or in corner 
stores, and his playing was as potent as that 
of the “pied piper.” He went continuously 
west. On freight trains, in stages, he paid his 
way by music. Many a home was open to the 
pretty boy with the violin — a sad-faced, silent 
boy, who lived under a great shadow of some 
kind, who said he had no home and no one to 
take care of him. The world has a great many 
soft-hearted people in it, and Whim wanted 
for nothing. He had had his lesson, and fled 
all gaming as the youths of old fled devouring 


296 


JN BLACK AND GOLD. 


dragons ; he had never had any taste for 
drinking ; he had hated all swearing and vile 
language, so he pursued his lonely way, out of 
mischief and vice, but still very miserable. He 
had crossed the Mississippi and was travelling 
along in the northern tier of the Missouri 
counties, in a rugged and thinly settled district. 
Here, at the little villages, he found himself 
and his violin very popular : there were wed- 
dings and fustic parties, and he was prayed to 
stay and help celebrate. He was requested 
to give some concerts. The country people 
said they “ never got a chance to hear music 
except an accordion or a Jew’s-harp or a 
broken-down melodeon. Wouldn’t he stay 
a while and give lessons ? If Maria had les- 
sons she could play in church, an’ Jo ’lowed 
he could play as well as the next one on a 
mouth-organ if some one would put him into 
the hang of it.'’ It was now September, and 
Whim knew he could not go travelling on all 
winter. He must make a stop somewhere. 
These people were kind, board at the hotel 
was cheap, he could get a few pupils, give 
some concerts, play for the rural merry-making, 


THE FUGITIVE, 


297 


— at least, he could make enough to strike 
the nearest railroad and go on by that some- 
what later. He had some little handbills 
struck, advertising two concerts. He had none 
of the secrecy of a scape-grace, this Whim. 
He never thought of hiding his name nor of 
taking a false one. He advertised, “Violin 
Concert by H. Whymper Granby,” and, to 
make it sound better, he put his birthplace 
“of London, Eng.” The first concert was a 
success for the little town ; every body came, 
and said such music was “ well worth the 
quarter.” The second concert was given ; and, 
when the crowd was gone. Whim buttoned up 
his money in his pocket, and started in the 
dark for his “hotel.” As he passed a corner, 
a hand clutched him ; a hollow voice said, 
“ Whim ! ” 

“ Who’s that } ” cried Whim. 

“ Sh-h-h — don’t you know ? I’m your 
father.” 

“Father! Why, what’s the matter with 
you ? ” In the darkness, Whim felt that some- 
thing was the matter. 

“ Oh, I’m awful low^ Whim.” 


298 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Come along to my room.” 

“ No, no ! They’ll get me.” 

“ Why, what’s up } Nobody wants you. 
Come along with me.” 

You come with me. I’ve got a safer place. 
I don’t come with you. I saw your advertise- 
ments last night when I came to get something 
to eat, and I came back to-night and waited 
for you. Come with me. Whim. I’m badly 
off.” 

“ I should say so. Why, how you shake ! 
How thin your arm feels ! Come with me. 
You are not fit to go far.” 

“ I can’t ! ” cried Granby. “ I won’t ! Come 
with me or I’ll go alone.” 

Oh, I’ll come. Take my arm. There, go 
it slow, sir.” 

They went on in the darkness, turning into 
a rough road and into a wood. Granby had 
hidden a lantern, which he found and gave to 
Whim. After they had gone about two miles, 
they came to a small log house in the woods. 
It had only one room, a puncheon-floor, mud- 
chinked walls, and a big fire-place. Granby 
stirred up the embers in the hearth, threw on 


THE FUGITIVE. 


299 


an armful of dry brush, and a splendid, ruddy 
flame soon lit the twelve-by-fourteen room. 
Whim saw a few cooking utensils, a rude table, 
two or three stools, a bed where the best 
covering was a great buffalo-robe. It was a 
poor, desolate-looking place. His father drew 
a stool close to the fire-place, and sat crouch- 
ing toward the blaze, warming his thin hands, 
and the leaping light showed his lean temples 
and hollow cheeks all the more closely because 
he had cut his once abundant curls close to his 
head. He was the wreck of what he had been 
in the spring, when thriving under Doro’s 
scrupulous care : his chest was hollow, and he 
kept coughing distressfully. 

“ See here,” said Whim, haven’t you any 
thing for that cough ? You look all fagged out. 
You need something to eat.” 

“ Oh, I don’t want any thing,” said Granby, 
fretfully. 

“ What have you been eating ” asked Whim. 

‘‘Nothing ; I had no appetite.” 

“ But what have you kept up on ? ” insisted 
the boy. 

“ Nothing did me any good but brandy. I 


300 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


had that and some wine, but the wine was so 
adulterated it made me sick.’' 

“ It always is,” said Whim, quoting Jonas ; 
“ and the brandy is worse. I don’t wonder you 
are thin and nervous and weak, father. You 
are burnt out, worn thin, not by hard work 
from outside, but by this kind of fire inside. 
Now, no more of that. I’m going to see what 
I can do for you.” 

Whim had found a sort of mess-chest, and 
was looking over the stores. “ Well, you’re 
going to have some hot gruel with sugar and 
nutmeg in it. That’s what Doro used to make 
me for a cough. You’ve taken a horrid cold, 
I see. I will heat some water, and you soak 
your feet and go to bed.” Whim, under press- 
ure of need, developed new faculties. He 
heated water, made gruel, made up the forlorn 
bed, and helped his father to a hot bath and 
a good rub, and then gave him hot gruel and 
brown toast. 

Now you’ll do better,” said Whim, “ and 
I’ll clean up this room and sit here and watch 
you. How did you come in such a hole? 
Never fret, I can earn money for us both. I’ve 


THE FUGITIVE, 301 

got plenty, and you shall have whatever you 
want.” 

He bustled about and cleared up the cabin 
and hearth with much of Doro’s address. His 
father watched him with glittering eyes. 

“ IVe been a bad father to you, Whim,” he 
said, “but I won’t trouble you much longer.” 

“ Oh, drop that,” said Whim. “ Why did 
you come here } ” 

“ To hide ; so they wouldn’t arrest me.” 

“ They don’t want to arrest you. That’s all 
blown over, I guess.” 

“ There’s more reason than that why I can’t 
come into court. Oh, how unfortunate I am ! 
I have been all these years in fear of prison, 
and now I die in hiding ! Whim, give me some 
brandy, so I can forget.” 

“ No, no ; you are in a fever now. Try and 
keep quiet. Have you been here long } ” 

“ I have travelled through Canada, and came 
here and bought out a man who lived here and 
wanted to go West.” Then Granby rambled 
on till Whim saw that his father was partly 
insane on the subject of arrest and imprison- 
ment. Finally he fell asleep, and Whim sat by 


302 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


the hearth and watched him through the weary 
night. 

“You’ll want to go off from this hole, 
Whim,” said Granby. Whim had slept in 
little uneasy naps by the hearth. 

“ Oh, no ; I don’t mind the place. I’ll take 
care of you here.” 

Granby began to talk wildly of hiding, letting 
no one know, of penitentiary, state prison, and 
escapes. Whim saw that at least on these sub- 
jects his mind was astray. 

“ Will you get up, father } ” 

“I can’t get up. My head whirls and is 
light ; my legs ache, my breast is heavy.” 

“ Well, keep in bed. I’ll bathe your face and 
hands and make you some hot gruel. Then, if 
you will lie quietly, I will hurry over to the 
town and get my things and the rest of my 
money, and something that you need.” 

“You’ll come back.? You won’t let any one 
find me.?” 

“ That’s all right,” said Whim. 

One of the resolutions which Whim had 
made for a better life was to stop all deceiving. 
When he went back to the hotel, he told the 


THE FUGITIVE. 


303 


landlord that he had found his father living up 
in the woods, and must stay with him. 

“ That your father ! ” said the landlord. 
“ He’s been there five or six weeks. Rather 
off the hooks, ain’t he } ” 

“ I think he is partly out of his mind, and he 
seems sick. When he gets better, his mind 
will be better, and I can’t get him to come in 
here with me. I want to buy some sheets and 
shirts and towels, and fit things for him to eat.” 

“ You’d better get him a doctor while you’re 
about it.” 

So I will,” said Whim. 

“You can get all the things you want — jelly, 
a chicken, all sorts — from Widow Jackson. 
She’s wanting to sell out, and go away. The 
doctor lives next her house.” 

In an hour Whim was returning to his father 
with the doctor. They rode on what they 
called a buck-board, and behind it hung a 
clothes-basket filled with Whim’s purchases 
from the Widow Jackson. 

“ Yes,” said the doctor, examining his patient, 
“ he is partly out of his mind from continuous 
mental excitement of some kind. Nothing 


304 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


more dangerous than keeping the nerves 
wound up to a high pitch, whether of pleasure 
or business or anxiety. Then, his system is all 
run down and broken up, his lungs *are in a 
bad state, and he has taken a fresh cold, and 
has pneumonia. It will be a very hard pull. 
Doubt if we can bring him through.” 

“This is such a bad place for him to be,” 
said Whim. 

“ Oh ! the place does very well. I’ve seen 
plenty worse. It’s tight ; the chimney gives 
it good ventilation ; it is warm and dry ; the 
weather is good — the place won’t hurt him.” 

“Don’t you think he will get well.?” faltered 
Whim. 

“Oh, there’s a chance — would have been 
more if he had handled himself right. One of 
those men who drink, drink, drink, glass of 
this, glass of that, wine and so on, without ever 
seeming very drunk. But they go it till their 
constitutions are completely honey-combed, and 
then expect doctors to patch them up as well 
as if there were sound constitutions to work 
on!” 

The doctor sat down to arrange medicine 


THE FUGITIVE. 


305 


from his case. Then he wrote on some strips 
of paper. Now, my boy, here you will find 
directions for making a corn-meal poultice for 
his chest ; and here’s ior a flaxseed-and-lemon 
tea, which you will keep warm on the hearth, 
and give him freely. Here is the medicine, 
marked. Heat a stone, and keep it at his feet. 
Here is the food he can eat, and how to pre- 
pare it. I think you have all necessary 
things in that basket. You seem to be a nat- 
ural nurse, and that is a gift to be thankful for. 
Been some of the right style of womankind in- 
terested in you, my lad ; I see it in your ways. 
Now, ril help you get sheets on that bed and a 
clean shirt on him, and then to-morrow I’ll be 
back.” 

A Western doctor must often be nurse and 
cook for his patients, as well as physician. This 
one skillfully helped Whim get his patient in 
order, and then hurried off. Whim, as the doc- 
tor said, took readily to nursing. He followed 
the given directions, made the one room tidy, 
gathered bunches of flowers and changing au- 
tumn leaves, and put them in water on the shelf, 
table, and the sill of the window ; made dishes 


3o6 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


and cooking utensils clean, baked some apples, 
and broiled a chicken, making broth for his pa- 
tient. It was afternoon. Granby slept much. 

“ Father,” said Whim, “ if you’ll take another 
nap. I’ll go out after some bundles of wood, to 
keep the fire up all night.” 

‘^Take the left-hand path,” said Granby, 
thickly. 

Whim carried along some pieces of rope, and, 
having gathered a quantity of dead wood, tied 
it into two great bundles. As he finished he 
heard the sound of horse’s feet, and saw some 
one riding toward him. 

“ Good-day, my lad,” said the stranger ; ‘‘ do 
you live about here ? ” 

“ Close by, in a log house,” said Whim. 

** Is there any church about here ? ” 

“ I haven’t heard of any.” 

“ Do you go to Sunday-school ? ” 

» No.” 

“ Is there any Sunday-school } ” 

“I don’t know; I haven’t been here very 
long.” 

“There are plenty of people, I suppose.?” 

“ Oh, yes, plenty of them, and very kind.” 


THE FUGITIVE. 


307 


I shall go round to visit them. I’m a col- 
porteur. I have books and tracts and Bibles 
for sale, and I talk to the people, and perhaps 
shall be able to have a prayer-meeting. Do 
you sing .? ” 

“ Some, sir.” 

“That’s good. Now, here is a new hymn. 
How do you like it ” 

The stranger, in a strong, melodious voice, 
sang some verses. 

“It is a good tune,” said Whim; “I could 
make that sound well on my violin.” 

“ Oh, have you a violin } So much the bet- 
ter. Nothing in a Sunday-school like music, 
except, of course, good teachers. May I go 
along home with you and see your folks ? ” 

“ I haven’t any,” said Whim, “ except my 
father. We are all alone, and he’s sick with 
his lungs and likely to die. He is out of his 
mind and has run away from home, and I don’t 
believe I can ever get him back.” 

Overcome with the rehearsal of his troubles. 
Whim’s eyes filled with tears ; he turned his 
back, leaned his bent arm against a tree, and 
bowed his head upon it. 


3o8 in black and gold. 

The stranger jumped from his horse, went 
and put his arms around Whim’s shoulders : 
“ Courage, my boy ; let me stand by you. It is 
my business to carry around books ; it is also 
my business to do all the good and relieve all 
the trouble that I can. I can nurse the sick ; 
I’m a tolerably good doctor. Let me go and 
stay with you a few days.” 

He picked up Whim’s big bundles of wood 
and laid them across his well filled saddle-bags ; 
then, taking the bridle over his arm, and hold- 
ing Whim by the hand, they went through the 
little wood to the log cabin. Granby was in a 
heavy sleep. The stranger touched his brow, 
felt his pulse, listened at his chest. 

“ I’m afraid it is a serious case,” he said ; 
“I’d better stay.” 

“ If you can be comfortable,” said Whim. 

“ I’ll do very well. I’ll go bring in some 
leaves and branches and pile them in that 
corner, and if I can put that buffalo-robe over 
them, it will be a better bed than I’ve had 
many a night. I have sat up all night in a tree 
often.” 

“ Let me fix the bed for you,” said Whim ; 


THE FUGITIVE. 


309 


I was going to roll myself in that brown 
quilt. I got blankets and the spread for his 
bed this morning. He always liked nice 
things.” 

The colporteur insisted on making his own 
bed and taking care of his horse. Whim ar- 
ranged his fuel and got supper. The col- 
porteur saw that this was not a pioneer boy. 
He had the methods of the East and of the 
city ; his hands had known no rough labors. 

“ Where are you from } ” he asked. 

“ I think I had better not tell where either 
father or I come from,” said Whim, “ and don’t 
take notice when he rambles.” After supper, 
the patient had his bath, his medicine, a fresh 
poultice, and was prepared for the night ; but 
he was restless and could not close his eyes. 

Whim, where’s that violin ? Let me hear 
the violin.” 

I thought you did not like the music, 
father > ” 

Oh, I want it now. Where’s the violin ? ” 

Let us try what I sang in the woods ; let 
us sing the Gospel to him,” said the stranger, 
going to his saddle-bags. He got out a book 


310 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


with hymns and tunes. The lamp was lit. 
Whim stood behind the colporteur, looking at 
the same page, and they began : — 

“ Lift up the gates ! Bring forth oblations. 

One crowned with thorns a message brings; 

His Word, a sword to smite the nations, 

His name the Christ, the King of kings. 

Arise and shine in youth immortal. 

Thy Light is come, thy King appears ! 

Beyond the centuries’ swinging portal 
Breaks a new dawn, the eternal years. 

“ He comes ! Let all the earth accept Him, 

The path in human form He trod ; 

Before Him spreads a holy kingdom. 

The Light of Life, the Son of God ! 

Arise and shine in youth immortal, 

Thy Light is come, thy King appears! 

Beyond the centuries’ swinging portal 
Breaks a new dawn, the eternal years.” 


They looked toward Granby ; the music 
soothed his restlessness. The missionary 
turned the pages to “ There is a fountain filled 
with blood.” 

“ Play your accompaniment very softly ; sing 
with me, every word clear. If there is not 
distinction of sounds, who can tell what is piped 
or harped 1 If the trumpet give an uncer- 


THE FUGITIVE. 


31I 

tain sound, who shall prepare himself for the 
battle ? ” 

When the hymn was finished, the visitor 
looked to Granby : “ ‘ This is the blood shed 
from the foundation of the world for the remis- 
sion of sins.’ * Behold the Lamb of God, which 
taketh away the sin of the world.’ ‘ Though 
your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white 
as snow ; though they be red like crimson, they 
shall be as wool.’ Let us pray.” 

He knelt down with Whim by his side and 
prayed earnestly. Then he read a psalm. 
Then, as Granby still motioned to the violin, 
they sang hymns until he fell asleep. 

The next morning, when the doctor had come 
and gone, having pronounced his patient much 
worse. Whim went out with the horse for more 
wood, and the colporteur was left alone with 
Granby. He saw that the sick man was con- 
scious — it might be one of the last rational 
intervals of his life. 

‘‘ My friend,” said the missionary, “ in this 
world even the longest lives are short — an 
interval of few years ; but there is a world, 
lying close to the boundary of this, where 


312 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


existence is endless. There is in that life a 
heaven where men may enter and be blessed 
through all eternity. Is that before you ? ” 

“ Young man,” said Granby, distinctly, “when 
one has in this life deliberately preferred places 
that are called ‘ hells,’ he is not likely to be 
bound for heaven.” 

“ If that has, unhappily, been your case, re- 
member that you are yet in a world where 
repentance and prayer are possible. God is 
never weary of forgiving.” 

Granby pursued his own line of thought. 
“ It is not my body that will go out of this 
world ; that I leave here. It is my mind — my 
heart — that shall reach a world, if such there 
is, beyond, and if any thing of me goes there. 
Now, it was not my body that preferred gam- 
bling to all else : it was my heart and my mind. 
They are now filled with those same prefer- 
ences. What is there in common between me 
and the angels and saints in heaven .? What 
attraction can I see in heaven } ” 

“ If God gives you a new heart, purges away 
your old lusts and sins, then you will have 
affinities with heaven.” 


THE FUGITIVE. 


313 


But suppose I do not ^are for that ? Sup- 
pose my feelings are all dead — so dead that 
even the rattle of a dice-box would not rouse 
me now ? Young man, go preach where there 
is hope.” 

He closed his eyes and turned away. When 
Whim came in, he roused and called him. 

My lad, if I had been a wise and good 
father, you could not have done more for me 
than you have. I have nothing to leave you. 
Whim — not even a good name or a good 
example — only a piece of advice : if you don’t 
want your heart burnt to ashes, if you don’t 
want to be bitten hourly by scorpions, if you 
don’t prefer hate, despair, and madness to live 
forever in your soul, avoid the wine-cup and 
the dice-box. Fly them as you would wild 
beasts, mad men, or the plague. If you drink 
and gamble, you will live with hell in your 
heart. Keep away from saloons and bars if 
you don’t want to get to the gaming-table. 
Don’t begin and think you can stop. Don’t 
know how^ or you’ll be possessed to try your 
knowledge. Don’t begin. A gamester can no 
more be stationary than the tide.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


GOLDILOCKS. 

T TAVING given this legacy of advice to 
^ Whim, Granby fell into deep thought. 

He turned his face to the wall and seemed 
to sleep. Whim and the colporteur went and 
stood outside the door. The late September 
had filled the wood with crimson arid gold, the 
sky was a pure deep blue, the air was mellow 
and fragrant, the year’s life was growing richer 
and richer to the end ; after spring and sum- 
mer, the harvest blessing. The misspent 
human life was going out in darkness and 
shame — never a sheaf to show, never a song 
of harvest joy. The wind had been sown, and 
the whirlwind was a-reaping. The good seed 
bringeth forth a hundredfold for the king’s 
treasuries ; the tares bring forth also a hun- 
dredfold for destruction. To these two watch- 
ing the wretched ending of an evil life, the day 
was dark as the night. The missionary laid 
his hand on the boy’s shoulder, saying: — 

3M 


GOLDILOCKS, 


315 


Thou, O my son, flee youthful lusts, that 
war against the soul. The blood of Jesus 
Christ can cleanse from all sin, but we may go 
on in sin until we have no part or lot in that 
blood of cleansing, and cry, like the Jews, ‘ Not 
this man, but Barabbas.’ And then, my son, 
remember that while that sacred blood can 
wipe our sins from the Divine record, nothing 
can wipe them from the earthly record. In our 
memories and on the lives of our fellows they 
shall be written forever.” 

Three days longer Granby lay in silence, 
whether ever conscious they could not tell ; 
then that stupor settled down into heavier and 
heavier unconsciousness, and was merged in 
death. The victim of the green table had lost 
all he had to lose — his all of the world and 
his own soul. 

Whim and the missionary, and a few of the 
village people, buried Granby on the first 
stormy day of the autumnal equinox : the wind 
roared, and the rain swept in heavy sheets 
against the pine coffin, the few attendants, and 
into the open grave. 

Whim and the missionary went from the 


3i6 in black a a^d gold. 

burial to the hotel. The exciteuient and suf- 
fering and terrors of the last eight months had 
told on Whim ; homesickness, the wretched 
fate of his father, his own disgrace and flight, 
uncertainty and hopelessness as to the future, 
the terrible scenes in the gaming-houses, such 
a night as he spent on the beautiful porch of 
Trinity Church : all these were incidents of life 
too sharp for a boy of fourteen, especially of 
Whim’s emotional and sensitive temperament. 
The next morning he was tossing and mutter- 
ing in a nervous fever. He had sedulously 
concealed his former home from the missionary, 
but his wild talk about the “ Conservatory ” and 
“ Beacon Street,” about “ Tremont Row ” and 
“ Andover Street,” informed his friend clearly 
that he was from Boston. 

“ A very beautiful boy,” said the doctor to 
the colporteur, “ a'nd a genius ; I never heard 
such sounds as he brings out of that violin. 
He must have friends, and he ought to be with 
them. High-strung musical natures like his 
can’t stand the rough-and-tumble places of life. 
They need careful handling. I’ll warrant he 
set off on some notion of duty or independence. 


GOLDILOCKS. 


317 

or some foolishness, and, if we could find his 
friends, we should get him back to them 
promptly.” 

ril find them,” said the missionary. 

He waited until after a sleep Whim was 
more quiet. Then he said, in an off-hand way, 
‘‘ Whim, whose Sunday-school did you go to in 
Boston .? ” 

Dr. ’s,” said Whim, surprised into an 

answer. 

The missionary began to talk of something 
else — to tell of a school he had started that 
in two years grew into a church. The mis- 
sionary knew well enough who Doctor 

was. 

A week after that, Doro, quite the pale 
shadow of the Doro of a year before, was lan- 
guidly dusting her wax, and taking no interest 
in it, when Maggie, putting her head into the 
show-room, said, “ Here’s your minister come 
to see you,” then thrust her two teeth over her 
upper lip and looked on, arms akimbo, while 

Doctor came in, shook hands, and led 

Doro to a seat. “ Doro,” he said, your 
troubles have worn on you. I don’t wonder, 


3lS IN B LAC AND GOLD. 

poor child. But you remember, * Shall we 
receive good at the hand of God, and shall we 
not receive evil ? ’ I bring you word to-day of 
both good and evil.” 

“ Is my Whim dead, sir } ” 

No. Whim is alive. I may say he is safe. 
In good, kind care, a better boy than when he 
left you ; sick, but not very sick.” 

“ Is that the bad news, sir .?” 

“ No. Your father, Doro, is dead.” 

“ Oh, sir ! ” cried Doro. “ I hoped, I prayed, 
I thought, I made so sure he would live to 
repent — to be a better man. Oh, my poor 
father ! ” 

“ Doro, when we have done all we could and 
then death comes by the will of God, we must 
leave our dead with God. There are burdens 
too great for human hearts to attempt to carry.” 

“ I think I must go to my Whim,” said Doro, 
faintly. 

He is in northern Missouri. It is too far 
for you, and you look ill yourself. If you go, 
there may be two sick instead of one. Now, 
read this letter, and I will be back in a 
moment.” 


GOLDILOCKS. 


319 


He gave her a long letter from the colporteur, 
telling all about Whim and his father. The 
thought that her father had been so cared for, 
that Whim had done so well his part, consoled 
Doro a little. 

The minister, who had consulted with Mag- 
gie, came back with Jonas, who also read the 
letter. 

“I will start this morning,” said Jonas, “to 
look after Whim till he is well, and bring him 
back. I can settle all for him.” 

“That will be the best plan,” said Doro; 
“and I have the money.” 

“ I could get it for you,” said the minister. 

“ No,” said Doro ; “ I have a hundred dollars 
for it.” 

When the minister was gone, Doro gave 
Maggie a sealed note to carry to an address. 
Then she busied herself in putting up a valise 
full of clothes for Whim, and writing him a 
letter. That afternoon Maggie entered the 
little sitting-room. Doro was sitting in the 
middle of the room, with a long white drapery 
pinned about her. Her golden hair fell in 
shining waves to the floor around her, like a 


320 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


glittering veil ; behind her stood a spruce man 
with a pair of sharp, shining shears, remorse- 
lessly cutting off all that wonderful hair close 
to Doro’s head, leaving little short rings barely 
an inch long ; he was a barber, bent on getting 
all he could for his money. 

“ Stop that, or Fll sue you for assault and 
battery,” cried Maggie. 

“ Maggie, I have sold my hair to him,” said 
Doro. 

“ It’s a larceny, all the same,” said Maggie. 
“ I read of a man in the paper who got sent to 
prison for cutting off a girl’s hair, and it was a 
mere every-day ordinary braided tail, not such 
a shower of gold as yours is.” 

“ I want it done,” said Doro. “ I need the 
hundred dollars to get Whim home ; and I’m 
tired of my hair, Maggie ; it seems as if I could 
not carry it any longer, my head is so tired.” 

“ Oh, dear me ! ” moaned Maggie, “ there 
was never any one in this world but Absalom 
had as fine hair as you have. Now you will be 
just like other people, and I can’t expect you 
to make a fortune or any thing, and the show 
will be ruined.” 


GOLDILOCKS. 


321 


“ I am glad not to be part of the show that 
way,” said Doro. I think I’m getting too old. 
I don’t like being stared at. I didn’t use to 
notice it ; now I do, and I don’t like it.” 

‘‘There,” said the barber, “ I’ve wanted that 
head of hair this long time.” 

“Then you’ve broke the tenth commandment 
with your coveting,” said Maggie ; “ and if you 
break one, you’re guilty of all.” 

“At least not of the eighth,” said the barber, 
“for I’ve paid a hundred dollars for it. That’s 
a liberal price.” 

That evening Jonas started West with the 
hundred dollars, the price of Doro’s hair. She 
had not told him how she got it, and as she had 
a scarf wrapped around her head, he did not 
notice the change. 

“ You’ll bring him back ? ” said Doro. 

“Of course,” said Jonas. “It was all non- 
sense, his clearing out. I have notified the 
police that your father is dead, and they will 
get a certificate of his death from Missouri. 
The gang he went with is broken up, and 
they’ve proved that Burg committed suicide. 
This has been a hard lesson for Whim, but you 


322 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


must never begrudge it if it saves him from 
being a gamester. Perhaps it was so in his 
blood no other lesson would do. You have to 
nearly break some folks’ heads pelting them 
with petrified facts, before they will believe or 
understand any thing.” 

“There’s a letter in Whim’s valise,” said 
Doro, “and you tell him I shall not be happy 
a minute till I get him back. I want to do all 
I can for Whim. I’m afraid I didn’t for poor 
father.” 

“ I think you did all you could for him,” said 
Jonas. 

“ Perhaps I ought to have loved him more,” 
said Doro. 

“ Love goes where it is sent,” quoth Maggie, 
“ and you spoiled him most disastrous, as your 
mother did before you. When a family is ar- 
ranged as yours was, and you know your father 
was the misery of your mother, why, it’s just as 
well to drop the discussion of loving, and be 
content with doing your duty, and you did 
yours, Doro, right up to the mark.” 

Away went Jonas, and poor little Doro exhib- 
ited her show. She felt glad that not very 


GOLDILOCKS. 


323 


many came, and she was more than ever dis- 
tressed that those who were present stared at 
her and made remarks about the loss of her 
famous hair. 

The next day she and Maggie sat together in 
the show-room, basting up a new gown for the 
Princess of Wales, who, having been created 
out of a recent Lady Washington, was to be 
exhibited with the Prince of Wales and the 
princely infants. 

I don’t care for them as I used to before I 
had so much trouble,” said Doro. “The Prin- 
cess Alexandra may be all very good and lovely,' 
and visit hospitals, and have fairs for orphans, 
and speak friendly to poor people, but to me 
she’s wax — nothing but wax. I wish I could 
rent the show. I wish it could be sold ; but it 
can’t till Pm twenty-one, almost four years yet. 
What I should like would be to have a home to 
myself, not part show, and to make my living 
making things out of wax, for, of course, I must 
earn my living somehow, and I’m not learned.” 

“ I tell you what I would like above all 
things,” said Maggie. “ I like animals above 
all things. I love dogs and cats very much 


324 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


better than folks. I think they’ve got more 
humanity in ’em. Now, the Society for 
Cruelty to Animals has a little house where 
sick or wounded animals is taken. If they 
must die, you chloroform them kindly out of 
this life. They have an old woman keep that 
house. I’d like to be that old woman. I 
wouldn’t have to get up in the morning before 
I liked. I could get my meals just when I 
wanted. I shouldn’t do much cooking, only 
for the animals, and they wouldn’t be sassy. 
I’d buy pepper-pot for myself. I’d not be 
lonesome, because I’d have the company of 
the animals. They’d like me, and I’d like 
them. The animals are nicer than people ; 
they never ask to have their clothes washed 
and ironed ; there’s no starching. If I could 
get to keep the Animals’ Home, I wouldn’t ask 
another thing in this earthly world.” 

Not that night, or for many nights after, did 
Doro show off the Princess Alexandra and her 
interesting family. Doro went to bed and 
stayed there. Maggie said, “The child was 
clean done out, and no wonder.” 

But the hymn-seller took wonderfully as a 


GOLDILOCKS. 


325 


show-woman. Her ready tongue rattled off 
the histories of the wax folk, and applied the 
lessons drawn from their lives. She adorned 
her discourse with quotations from innumerable 
recognized hymns, and from her own repertory 
— “ The Spiritual Railroad,” “ The Road to 
Ruin,” “The Dying Young Man,” “Wicked 
Polly,” “ The Fire-Engine,” and many more. 
Under her auspices the show revived, especially 
as she sold hymns in the day-time, and made 
herself a travelling advertisement of the wax. 
Her board at Maggie’s abundant table, she 
thought compensation more than sufficient for 
being show-woman. 

Whim was back finally, in December. He 
was appalled to find Doro sick in her bed. 
But. his coming revived her. Next day Maggie 
bolstered her up in bed, and let Whim carry up 
the little tray of breakfast. 

“ Now,” said Whim, “ I’ll be your nurse, and 
cure you up, and I’ll make up to you for all 
the trouble I’ve been, and never leave you 
nor worry you any more, dear good Doro. 
You look so different somehow. Whatever 


is it.?” 


326 m BLACK AND GOLD. 

“ I’m pale, you know, and thin ; but I’ll get 
better.” 

‘‘ It’s not all that,” said Whim ; it’s — why, 
Doro ! it is your hair. It’s gone ! What have 
you done with it } ” 

“ Sold it for a hundred dollars to bring you 
home. Whim.” 

“ Oh, Goldilocks ! my poor, dear Goldi- 
locks ! ” cried Whim. 

‘‘ For my part, I think it’s well gone,” said 
Goldilocks. 

“ Maggie, get up the best kind of a dinner 
on Christmas Day, for Doro is to come down- 
stairs. We’ll have a party ; we’ll have Jonas 
and the hymn-seller — a celebration, you see ! ” 
Oh, I see ! and all the work for me to do ! 
Not that I begrudge Doro any thing. Coming 
down, is she } Well, you should be thankful. 
I made sure she’d never come down more, in 
which case, you’d have killed her, just as much 
as if you had cut off her head.” 

Whim looked conscience-stricken. “I know 
it, Maggie.” 

“ I hope you know it well enough to keep 


GOLDILOCKS. 


327 


straight forever after. Doro isn’t made of iron. 
She can’t stand such aggravating goings-on. 
What would you do if she was dead } ” 

“ I’d be too broke up to do any thing,” said 
Whim. 

“ Oh, it’s easy to talk. It’s doing I want to 
see. I want to see you stay in nights, and let 
all games of chance alone. Your father — not 
that I wish to cry down the dead — was a 
sample of what gambling brings about. I’ve 
known other cases. I knew a man, one of six 
in his own home — he married, too, and had 
several children — but his gambling cut him 
off from his brothers and sisters — flesh and 
blood can’t stand every thing — broke his 
parents’ heart, killed his wife, scattered his 
children, wasted all he had ; so, instead of a 
good, well-set-up home, plenty in it, family 
round him, business and respect, he was a man 
of rags in a bare, empty room, without fire or 
furniture, and no family to speak of beyond a 
plaster dog, and that was cracked so the pawn- 
broker wouldn’t look at it.” 

“ Well, Maggie, I’ve had my lesson, and I 
never, never shall touch any gaming of any 
kind again.” 


328 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Doro was coming down-stairs Christmas Day. 
She was to stay in the little sitting-room, for 
the show was to be open all day, and Whim 
was to play his best to bring a crowd. The day 
before Christmas, Maggie and the hymn-seller 
were in Doro’s room in serious consultation. 

“ I don’t know whatever I’m to do,” said 
Doro. “ I can not wear one of my dresses. 
They are large enough round, but not long 
enough. I must have grown three inches while 
I was in bed. I kept wondering what was the 
matter with my old flannel wrapper. How can 
I get down-stairs I’m glad I’m better ; but I 
do wish I had some clothes! ” 

Whim knocked at the door. “ Here’s Miss 
Harrison. May she come up ? ” 

Miss Harrison had been there once before. 
After 97 Andover Street appeared in the pa- 
pers, in connection with Granby and the gam- 
bling-houses, Miss Harrison had not had moral 
courage to go among what she called “ Philis- 
tines.” But, since Granby was dead and Doro 
ill, the young lady had been driven by the 
pricks of her conscience and the monitions of 
the superintendent and pastor to visit her 


GOLDILOCKS. 


329 


protegee. When Miss Harrison came, she was 
always so lively, smiling, every way affable, 
that no one could feel hurt or vexed that she 
had not appeared before. She was one of those 
lucky individuals that always seem to be in the 
right — while you are looking at them. 

When Doro heard that Miss Harrison was 
coming up, she sat hastily down in her easy- 
chair and pulled a shawl over her lap. The 
hymn-seller and Maggie stood as if petrified, 
and, when the young lady appeared, each one was 
holding up for inspection, at arm’s length, one 
of Doro’s tidy but terribly shabby little gowns. 

“ Oh, Doro, my clear, so you are going to be 
dressed again ! ” cried Miss Harrison. “ How 
lovely ! ” 

“ She’s just found that she isn’t likely to be 
dressed for a long while,” said Maggie. Since 
she has had nothing to do but lie in bed she 
has taken to growing — Doro always was busy 
about something — and she has got so tall that 
her dresses are ’way up to her knees. There 
never was any thing to spare in them.” 

“ Oh, isn’t that too funny ! ” cried Miss 
Harrison. “ Do stand up, Doro. Why, I see, 


330 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


you never could wear it in the world. It is 
’most short enough for a ballet-dancer. You 
remind me of when I was a little girl. I 
thought people grew up at once — not by de- 
grees, and, when I went to my trundle-bed at 
night, I used to wonder if I’d grow up to be 
a tall lady before morning, and wake up to find 
my feet sticking out over the foot of the bed, 
and have not a garment long enough to put on. 
I wondered how the human family managed in 
such often repeated instances of growth, and 
whether I should be allowed to wear my 
mamma’s clothes or my aunts’, until some 
were made for me.” This amiable reminis- 
cence of Miss Harrison made every one laugh, 
and removed the embarrassment of the occa- 
sion. You’re almost as tall now as I am, 
Doro,” rattled on Miss Harrison; “there is 
only one thing for me to do. I must go home 
and share with you — send you an outfit. I 
have been racking my brains to think of a 
Christmas present for you : a wardrobe will be 
just the thing ! ” 

“Oh, Miss Harrison! Your dresses would 
not suit me I ” cried Doro. 


GOLDILOCKS. 


331 


“ Why, you wouldn’t mind, would you ? 
Don’t be a silly child. There’s no time to 
make things. You ought not to sew for a 
month to come. You can’t lie in bed indefi- 
nitely. Of course I won’t send you a long train 
or a party-dress. I have some sensible clothes ; 
and they are a little outgrown for me too, and 
I didn’t know what to do with them. There is 
a gray flannel wrapper trimmed with braid and 
a blue serge dress and a dark green flannel I 
got for the mountains last year. Do let me go 
home for them.” 

Doro flushed. She was an independent little 
creature. 

Pretend you’re my little sister,” said Miss 
Harrison, prettily. 

“ Come, my dear,” said the hymn-seller ; “ let 
me quote the Scripture to you. ‘All ye are 
brethren.’ None of them said that any thing 
he had was his own, ‘ but they had all things in 
common.’ ‘ So ought ye also to love one an- 
other.’ Our Lord Jesus, as our elder brother, 
offers us all a robe of his righteousness and a 
covering ; and if we freely take from him so we 
may freely share with each other, and no shame 


332 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


to any of us. And now I see clearly the good 
hand of the Lord in this. In the fire last night 
was burnt out a widow woman that I know. 
She lost almost all she had, and all the clothes 
of the family. She is a very well respected, 
industrious woman, and all who know her — 
and the ward police, too — have been very good 
to her, and another room is hired and she has 
in it almost as much as she lost, except she is 
bad off for bedding ; and her eldest girl, twelve 
years old, has not had any thing sent in to fit 
her. I was in there an hour ago, and the girl 
was sitting by the stove, wrapped in a quilt, as 
she has only the night-dress she escaped in. 
Her mother said she made sure God would 
provide clothes for her child, and all she needed. 
Now, if you let this young lady, out of her 
plenty, provide for you, I can take all your 
things over to this poor girl, and two of you 
will be furnished out. It is thus God means 
his family to help each other. Don’t it say, 
‘ Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without 
our Father ’ } ” 

“ I’m going straight home, whether or no, to 
dress my little sister up,” said Miss Harrison, 


GOLDILOCKS. 


333 


laughing, ‘‘ and do you, my dear old lady, carry 
off all her clothes to that poor girl. When I 
send the things for Doro, I will send in the 
carriage two quilts and a basket of provisions 
for Christmas dinner for that poor woman, and 
you take it to her, will you ? I really shall 
have a charming Christmas this year. It is an 
unmitigated bore sometimes, but now I truly 
feel quite Christmasy.” 

“ Because you experience now that it is more 
blessed to give than to receive,” said the hymn- 
seller ; ** and I hope the Lord will confer a 
thousand times more upon your soul.” 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


THE RETURNED PRODIGAL. 

AGGIE was quite in her element un- 



packing the large dress-basket which 
Miss Harrison sent for Doro. “ Why, here’s 
a dear little muff, and here’s a little box with 
six brand-new handkerchiefs, never been out of 
the folds, and some neckties ; and see the pile 
of white clothes, all trimmed with edging, and 
here’s four dresses and a coat and a hat and 
three white aprons and a pair of new gloves. 
Land ! she knows how to give — only I did 
make sure she’d have sent a silk gown, or one 
dress with a ruffled train ! ” 

“ Oh, I should not have wanted such a 
thing ! ” cried Doro. “ This wrapper and those 
three nearly new worsted dresses are so nice, 
I would feel that I could not take them, only it 
makes me able to send my poor little things 
over to the girl that has nothing.” 


334 


THE RETURNED PRODIGAL. 


335 


“ Well, your things are all whole and clean, 
and in order, and she ought to feel it no shame 
to take them ; and you the same for what you 
have. I’ve got yours all packed in a big 
basket, and the quilts from Miss Harrison laid 
up top, and the basket she sent is ready. I did 
peep in that, and I saw a chicken, a loaf, some 
bundles like tea or sugar, a glass of jelly, some 
apples, and a box of candy,” said Maggie. 

“ Oh, Maggie ! you should not have looked ! ” 

*‘It didn’t hurt ’em any, and it relieved my 
mind.” 

Whim and the old lady set out for the widow’s, 
carrying the big basket between them. Whim 
carried in his other hand the basket of pro- 
visions, and the hymn-seller had the violin. 

I never see such a boy,” said Maggie ; “ he 
can’t go out without his fiddle any more than 
without his hat.” 

But Whim had his ideas about his violin. 
He meant to make his contribution to the 
widow’s Christmas. When the baskets were 
unpacked, and in the lately fire-swept home 
joy and abundance had taken the place of des- 
olation, Whim took his violin and played “ The 


336 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Lord will provide.” Then touching a few notes 
here and there, he sang : — 

“ ‘ Not a sparrow falleth 
But the Lord doth see.’ ” 

“I declare,” said the hymn-seller, relating 
the scene to Jonas, that boy has certainly got 
witchcraft in his fingers or his bow. His play- 
ing took hold of me to such an extent that I 
wept copious, the widow wept, all her children 
did the same ; the way he handled them notes, 
we had a perfect jubilee of crying, and felt 
most delightful, I do assure you.” 

*‘For my part, I was not born under the 
‘ Showery Hyades,’ ” said Jonas. 

“ I don’t know what you mean, but that 
often happens, ” said the hymn-seller, “ only 
we had an elegant time all the same.” 

On New Year’s evening, before the show 
opened. Whim was in his old place on an otto- 
man by the head of the little sofa on which 
Doro was lying. 

I’m making resolutions for the New Year,” 
said Whim. “ One is to tell you out fair and 
square every thing I do — that will be safe for 


THE RETURNED TROD /GAL. 337 

me, A^nd another is, to-morrow to go up to 
the Conservatory and tell the Director I’m 
going to turn over a new leaf, and work like 
a Trojan. And the last is, Doro, to go to work 
as hard as ever I can, saving and earning 
money to help pay that debt. We must make 
poor father’s name as clear as we can. Before, 
I soon got tired of trying, and thought it was 
no use and not our business, . and all that. 
Now, I feel different. We’ll clear our name, 
and it will be right, and a lesson to me about 
never getting in debt and never trying to get 
money that I don’t earn. I told young Jonas, 
when he was here to dinner, Christmas, that I 
needed to lay up some money for a purpose, and 
was going to save hard to do it, and he said all 
the better for me, that knowing how to econo- 
mize was better than a fortune to a boy. He 
said, too, that musicians generally were not 
economical or careful about accounts, not very 
practical, he said, and that I ought to cultivate 
that side of my character. I don’t see why 
hammering away at harmony don’t make a 
person as practical as hammering away at 
rocks in geology. He seemed to think not.” 


338 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


They heard steps in the hall, Jonas and 
young Jonas. Doro sat up and Whim opened 
the door. 

“ I’m afraid I come just at show-time,” said 
young Jonas. 

I’m not going in,” said Doro. 

I suppose you are not strong enough yet,” 

“ Very nearly ; but I don’t want to go in, it 
don’t suit me any more. I feel as if I could not 
show off the wax. I can dress it up and tell 
the old lady what to say, but I must find some- 
thing else to do. I don’t know what, for wax- 
work is going out of fashion. I’m afraid.” 

“ If Doro sold the show, would it bring her 
enough to live on .^” asked Whim of Jonas, put- 
ting on the man of business, for the express 
benefit of young Jonas. 

“ No, it would not. If I got five hundred dol- 
lars for the show, it would be the highest figure 
I could get. The only way to make any thing 
out of it is to keep on showing ; it and the old 
woman takes very well so far, with your music 
to help her.” 

“ Time to begin ! ” cried Maggie, appearing 
ready for the lobby, in worsted hood, little 
shawl, and multitudinous petticoats. 


THE RETURNED PRODIGAL. 


339 


“ Coming, ma’am ! ” cried Whim ; and soon 
his violin was heard, alluring the public with a 
violin sonata from Beethoven. 

“ He’ll make his way in the world yet,” said 
Jonas, listening. “ If he is cured of all taste 
for gaming,” he added to himself. 

The next day, Whim, violin in hand, pre- 
sented himself at the Conservatory. The 
Director looked up from his desk as the boy 
entered the office, said, “ Whymper Granby.?” 
in a freezing tone, and looked back to his desk 
again. 

Whim took an attitude of penitent waiting. 

“Well, what now.?” asked the Director, 
after the culprit had been long enough morally 
in the stocks. 

“If you please, sir. I’ve come back.” 

“So I see. I don’t know as it is any great 
honor or cause of rejoicing to the Conserva- 
tory. I had hoped to make a musician of you.” 

“ So I hope you may,” said Whim. 

“I have some patience,” said the master, 
“with dabblers who have not genius to be any 
thing better. If they choose to use their time 
and money in amusing themselves with musiC; 


340 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


of course it is open to them to do so. But 
when great gifts have been conferred, and I see 
them despised, I lose all patience. Have you 
read the parable of a talent buried in a nap- 
kin.?” 

“ I hope I shall remember it in future,” said 
the returned prodigal. 

The prodigal, however, was not dealing with 
a doting parent, but with his music-master. 
His sins were set in order; — 

“ Last year you began to neglect your duties ; 
you failed to make the best of yourself, and 
finally, without warning or excuse, you disap- 
peared altogether. Then, too, I had the 
chagrin of finding that you had been in bad 
company, were mixed up in a very suspicious 
affair ; that you had debased your music by 
taking it to embellish the orgies of a pack of 
scoundrels. If you have no more respect for 
the art of music than to see it 'degraded so as 
to pander to vice, really I would prefer not to be 
responsible for instructing you. I know music 
is often so humiliated, and, instead of elevating 
souls, is applied to debasing them. It is en- 
tirely against my convictions as to the true 


THE RETURNED PRODIGAL. 


341 


mission of music. You were born to be very 
good or very bad. If you have elected to be 
very bad, I don’t want to have a hand in it. 
Unless you can cultivate rightness in yourself 
so that there shall be rightness in your music, 
I do not wish you for a pupil. Besides, I can 
not take your little sister’s hard earned money, 
thinking or being sure you will effectively waste 
it by neglecting your opportunities.” 

“ Sir,” said Whim, “ I deserve all you say. 
but I am really very sorry for my course, and 
I truly mean to give all my time to my music 
and pursue a right life.” 

“ It is a delicate matter,” said the Director, 
to warn a boy against his own father. But, 
in case of such reprehensible vices as drinking 
or gambling, necessity should carry it over 
delicacy. It has generally been considered 
that enthusiastic, sensitive, highly strung or- 
ganizations, as of poets and musicians, are 
peculiarly susceptible to the temptations of 
gaming. You have such a temperament, inher- 
ited tendencies, a bad example, the positive 
influence of your father — ” 

“ Sir, that influence has ceased. He is dead.” 


342 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ Your father dead ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; I found him out West, partly 
insane. I took care of him in his last sickness. 
I buried him. He left me all he had — a 
warning against gaming.” 

“ And you think it will be effective } ” 

“ I hope so, sir. I have seen more of the 
dangers and horrors of gaming than one who 
has kept out of the reach of it can imagine. I 
hope I’m cured. I shiver to remember it.” 

In that case we may make something of 
you in time,” said the Director, who was never 
lavish of compliment, and who felt that if the 
returned Whim might be not exactly a black 
sheep, he was not yet a white sheep, but only 
gray, and must be sharply looked after. 

Whim waited. 

We will go to work on you again,” said 
the Director. You will have the same in- 
structor. He understands your dangers. So 
do I. I hope you understand them yourself. 
You are variable. You are idle. You rely too 
much on genius, too little on work. You are 
a dreamer. You begin at white-heat. You 
cool off soon. Therefore you are unreliable.” 


THE RETURNED PRODIGAL. 343 

Here were frozen truths, served up in neat, 
squarely defined fragments, like New York ice- 
cream, hue less palatable. Whim had no choice 
hue to accept, in a spirit of charity, the refresh- 
ment offered him. It might be tonic in its 
effect. 

“ Violin in proper order ? ” 

Yes, sir.” 

“ Same practice-room,” and with a wave of 
the hand Whim was dismissed. He knew he 
deserved all and more than all he had received. 
He burned to show that he was really a new 
boy. He reflected that this would be a work 
of time — that day by day he must regain a 
respect which day by day he had lost. He had 
taken his first year for pulling himself down ; 
it behooved to take the second to build him- 
self up. 

When he appeared before his instructor, that 
individual had but one word to say, but it was 
a potent word : — 

My lad, moral rightness lies behind all 
right art. Begin.” 

So was Whim reinstated with his profes- 


sors. 


344 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Out of 97 Andover Street had gone the dis- 
turbing spirit, and the home was quiet. Doro 
no more sat up late at night watching for her 
father’s return. The show closed at ten, and 
the house at once after. It was not needful 
now to hurry to Jonas with each day’s paltry 
earnings : the earnings were safe. They were 
not very great earnings, but the little family 
lived on them, and Doro laid up something. 
The hymn-seller was still show-woman, and 
Whim, by his playing, earned enough to clothe 
himself. Most of his engagements came 
through Miss Harrison. She liked to be the 
patroness of a rising geniu.s. Doro found new 
work for herself ; the fingers so skillful in 
manipulating wax took readily to all varieties 
of art embroidery. A few lessons only were 
needed to make her competent to fill the 
numerous orders received through Miss Har- 
rison. 

Maggie did not intend to be the only one 
unrefreshed by the golden shower of Miss 
Harrison’s favors. She one day inveigled the 
young lady into her kitchen, especially fur- 
bished for the occasion. 


THE RETURNED PRODIGAL. 


345 


“ Miss Harrison, my dear, do you belong to 
the Society for Cruelty to Animals ? ” 

For the prevention of cruelty, you mean.” 

“Yes ; it’s all the same.” 

“ No, I don’t belong.” 

“ You would, my dear, if you knew the good 
that Society does ! I have seen too many dogs 
in my time with tin pans tied to their tails 
running mad ; too many cats pelted by little 
Turks of boys ; too many horses getting abused, 
not to feel for animals. Didn’t Jonas tell me 
the other day that a learned man, who was 
born speaking Latin, just as folks like you and 
me, my dear, were born speaking English, said 
that horses, oxen, sheep, and bees, if they have 
not reason like man, are yet useful to man, and 
man has duties to them. Now, I wish you’d 
join that Society, and I’ll tell you why. You 
are such an elegant young lady, they’d soon 
make you President or Director or such, and 
you could speak a word for me. I can see 
plain enough the time will come when Doro 
won’t live here any more. Whim will get to 
be a high-flier on his violin, and carry her off 
with him to Europe or somewhere, and I must 


346 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


look out for myself. I want to get in charge 
of the house where they keep the animals — 
Animals’ Home they call it. You know, folks 
that has a sick or old animal that they can’t 
keep, and have a proper feeling for, or folks 
that are going on a journey, send the animals 
there to be taken care of. I can’t tell you how 
I’d love, when I leave Doro, to go and take 
superseding of an Animals’ Home.” 

‘ Certainly it is a very moderate wish,” said 
Miss Harrison. “ I will say a good word for 
you if it is ever in my power to do so.” 

“ Do, my dear ; I should be completely 
happy. Once I broke the Tenth Command- 
ment. I really could not help it. I knew a 
woman in the country where I went to stay 
a week, and she had forty dogs. They be- 
longed to a gentleman who paid her to take 
care of them. All her back yard was full of 
little houses for the dogs. You couldn’t go 
within sight of the place but they set up bark- 
ing like mad, tearing to get over the fence or 
loose their chains ; spaniels, collies, shepherds, 
mastiffs, terriers, bull-dogs, Newfoundlands, 
hounds, bird-dogs. Oh, it was deafening and 


THE RETURNED PROD/GAL. 


347 


beautiful to hear them. Then I read of an old 
woman, not poor like me, but quite rich. She 
had a little house in the woods, and a hundred 
and fifty dollars a year, which is quite a for- 
tune, you know. And she had a fancy for cats, 
and she h^-d sixty cats. She never let a cat or 
kitten be killed if she could help it ; hers all 
died of old age, or something that could not be 
helped. She had Maltese and brindle, black, 
white, tabby, spotted, dear knows how many, 
and lived friendly with them all. The Lord 
has made many kinds of people, my dear, and 
many ways to please them all. Lm for spend- 
ing my last days with animals ; so you bear it in 
mind, my dear.” 

Miss Harrison went back to Commonwealth 
Avenue reflecting that there were more ways of 
living and being happy than she had embraced 
in her experience, and lost in astonishment that 
the price of one of her gowns, and that not the 
richest, should be considered a plentiful living 
for a whole year ! It struck her that she pos- 
sessed money far beyond the proper needs, and 
that she was expending it unreflectingly, and 
that some day God might inquire into the use 


348 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


of it. Then she began to wonder if there were 
any thing else which she had, for which she 
might be called to account, and of which she 
would have but a poor account to give. There 
was time. “ Are there not twelve hours in the 
day in them ought men to work.” Did she 
make any especially good use even of one hour 
of the twelve } was she ever doing any thing 
particularly good or useful ? Then, there was 
example. She was responsible for a good 
example. What kind of an example was she 
setting.^ “At least,” said Miss Harrison to 
herself, “I don’t do anything bad.” Then, 
conscience, that had lately been given to unex- 
pected wakings-up and remonstrating, inter- 
fered. “ I have united myself to the Church 
of Christ, and therefore virtually undertaken to 
forsake worldliness, and live soberly, honestly, 
and righteously in this present evil world. But 
what is there that any moral worldly people do 
that I do not do 1 Have I ever given up one 
worldly fashion for the sake of more fully adorn- 
ing the doctrine of God, my Saviour.?” 
“ Really,” said Miss Harrison to herself, “ I 
do not know what has come over me. I 


THE RETURNED PRODIGAL. 349 

never used to take myself to task in this 
fashion.'’ 

She had by this time reached home. She 
had been at 97 Andover Street to engage 
Whim for a little evening party she and her 
sister were to give. Her mother called her 
into the library. 

“ My dear, we think we shall have to give up 

wine at our party this evening. Mrs. has 

been here, talking to your sister about it, and 
has been so earnest on the danger of wine at 
houses and parties like ours, and the need of 
good example, that your sister is all stirred up 
over it, and insists upon your father sending all 
our wine to the hospital, and offering no more 
in the house, and, really, I have thought of it 
so before now.” 

“Only,” said the old grandmother, looking up 
from her netting, “ I don’t see why if it is bad 
for us, we should poison the hospital patients 
with it.” 

“But the doctors will give it,” said Mrs. 
Harrison. 

“Some of them know better,” said the old 
lady. 


350 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ I don’t know what else to do with it,” said 
Mrs. Harrison. 

As you please,” said Miss Harrison. “ No 
doubt it will be best. I wonder what we shall 
have at the party, for I had just made up my 
mind to say we must banish the cards. My 
pet musician has been nearly ruined by cards, 
and I don’t want the boy tempted in our house, 
or to set a bad example to him or any one else. 
We really should give up cards.” 

“All right,” laughed her father; “go in for 
reforms, and we’ll follow suit. I don’t want to 
see an age come in America as came in Eng- 
land, when men had gambled with every thing 
until all new ways of gambling were exhausted, 
except to gamble with flies. So they played fly- 
loo. Each man put a lump of sugar before 
him, and bet fortunes upon whose lump a fly 
would light on first. Behold the possibilities of 
human folly ! ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE. 

I ''HERE has been a man here in my shop 

^ whom you should have seen,” said Jonas 
to the hymn-seller as she was setting forth on 
her rounds one morning. “ He was selling 
Bibles — illustrated Bibles, full of pictures. I 
told him I didn’t care for that kind. Do you.^” 

“Yes, indeed,” said the hymn-seller; “it’s 
the only kind I care for.” 

“ What ! Why, if I’d known, I should like 
to have got you one, only the price was beyond 
me — twenty dollars.” 

“Oh, thank you. I’ve got one — read it every 
day.” 

“ Come, now, that old brown Bible of yours 
isn’t illustrated.” 

“ Oh, it is, indeed. What good would a 
Bible be not illustrated. Let us discuss a little ; 
I have not discussed with you for a great while. 
When we were on opposite sides concerning 
351 


352 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


the Bible, we discussed a great deal ; now we 
are agreed, we have little to say. Concerning 
illustrations : I have noticed that people gener- 
ally look at the pictures ot a book first. If 
they haven’t time to read the book, they run 
over the pictures, and get the gist of the book 
out of them. Sometimes it is the pictures that 
beguile people to buy or study a book ; they 
wouldn’t look at it only for the illustrations. 
Now, the Lord knows we humans like illustra- 
tions, pictures, object-lessons, and he arranged 
to have his Book illustrated, so as to meet our 
needs. Only the illustrations are not bound in 
with the reading — they’re loose and walking 
around. Every wicked sinner is an illustration 
of some of the warnings or forbiddings of the 
Scripture. Look over the way ! There’s Jim 
Cody so drunk he takes up the whole sidewalk. 
He is an illustration of the passage, ‘ They reel 
to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man.’ 
Drop into a bar-room and you will get an illus- 
tration of ‘Who hath woe who hath conten- 
tions } who hath sorrow ? who hath redness of 
eyes } who hath wounds without cause } ’ and so 
on. Yon is little Ben Jones fallen down and 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE. 


353 


roaring like a good fellow, and there’s his moth- 
er picking him up to cuddle and pet him, and 
ain’t that an illustration of the text, ‘As one 
whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort 
you’ ? But these are small illustrations, merely 
fancy lettering, or tail-pieces, not the full-page 
illustrations. These little pictures I have men- 
tioned come natural, because, in the first place, 
the Lord looked abroad, and drew the texts 
from daily life. But, then, there’s the illustra- 
tions of sound doctrine, of holy living, of the 
love of God shed abroad in our hearts. We 
are all called upon to be illustrations of the 
grace of life, that men may take knowledge of 
us that we belong to Jesus. We ought to feel 
that the world is looking at us to know what 
virtue there is in godliness. Many people will 
judge of the value of piety from our walk and 
conversation. We should consider that, and 
try to live up to what we know.” 

“It is true,” said Jonas, “that the world 
does watch believers very closely, and is ready 
to make excuse by their conduct.” 

“ Yes ; and so we are stumbling-blocks to 
others. Instead of helping save souls, we help 


354 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


to ruin souls. I tell you, Mr. Cobbler, if we 
are not doing good in this world we are doing 
evil. We are one thing or another, and we 
ought to remember it.” 

“I must say you do your part pretty fairly,” 
said Jonas, “ and as you draw your illustrations 
from real life, I suppose you don’t pine because 
I didn’t buy you a picture-Bible.” 

“ Bless you, no ; I’ve no call for a Bible 
other than I have. I like my old book. It has 
been with me in six troubles. It has got so it 
opens just to the places I like best. When the 
edges get worn out from much handling, I paste 
new margins of paper along them, and - some 
day I mean to ask you to sew a strip of leather 
against the back. Now, isn’t that a true 
hymn : — 

“ ‘ How precious is the Book Divine, 

By inspiration given ; 

Bright as a lamp its doctrines shine 
To guide our souls to heaven ! ’ 

“ Some folks say my hymns are old-fashioned 
things — not any elegance about them — but, 
land! they suit me.” 

Away trotted the little woman, with her 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE. 


355 


sheaf of hymns in blue print and blue margins. 
Jonas went up to the first floor to measure' 
Doro for a pair of shoes. 

“ She’s off, as brisk as ever,” he said, refer- 
ring to the “attic.” 

“Yes. I have told her her showing the wax 
is worth all her living, and she need not go out 
with the hymns ; but she says she is used to it, 
and likes it, and it is a way of doing good. 
She says it makes opportunity for her to talk 
to people about religion, and that writing the 
hymns is occupation to the old soldier, who else 
would have nothing to interest him.” 

“ Let her go,” said Jonas, folding up his rule. 
“ She is one of those that won’t get to glory 
empty-handed. She is one who will doubtless 
come again with rejoicing, bringing sheaves. 
That is a handsome piece of work you are 
doing, Doro.” 

“Yes; a table-cover,” said Doro, spreading 
it out. “ And there is a sofa-pillow. But, 
Jonas, one pair of hands doing this work, and 
the little profit of an old wax show, does not 
bring in very much for a family. I’m not fall- 
ing behind. I lay up a little — but only a little. 


35 ^ IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

I have three hundred in the bank. Now, Jonas, 
after next year, at the farthest. Whim ought to 
go to Germany, for a year or so, to study, if he 
is to be a great violinist. I have thought if I 
could hear of some good older student, or a 
German pastor’s family for him to live in, he 
would be safe. Whim is a good boy now.” 

Living is cheap in Germany,” said Jonas ; 
“and Whim must be taught to deny himself. 
There’s nothing better for a boy than to prac- 
tise economy ; it’s tonic. If you want to ruin 
a boy, keep his pockets full. There isn’t one 
boy in a thousand will stand it. If you can get 
your three hundred up to four in a year, you 
can risk sending Whim off for a start.” 

“ I can’t use that money in that way. Part 
of it was laid up by my mother for a special 
purpose. We must be just before we can be 
generous. That money goes to pay a debt.” 
“Whew! So big a debt as that, Doro.^” 
“Much bigger — over two thousand dollars.” 
“Oh, no ; not that much, surely.^” 

“ It is all that, and must be paid. It is a 
debt of our poor father’s, and Whim and I 
can’t have a clean name till it is paid. We 
both have made up our minds.” 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE. 357 

You are not really holden for it, you know.” 

“We are held by our poor mother’s v/ish, 
and by what is really right. There is a verse 
I often think of, ‘ Then I restored that which 
I took not away.’ Besides, as long as there is 
this dishonest debt, I want Whim to feel it 
must be paid, and to help pay it. It will make 
him more careful.” 

“I hope,” said Jonas, “that it is not what 
is called ^ a debt of honor,’ — a gambling debt, 
— for there has been a deal of balderdash 
talked about them, and I’m not clear that they 
should be paid. They are not bills collectible 
by law. A sum won at the gambling-table is 
the plunder of a thief, and I think it is only 
encouraging swindling to pay it.” 

“ This is not a gambling debt,” said Doro ; 
“ at least, though it was made by gaming, I 
shall not pay the money to any gambler. My 
poor father, in a frenzy to make a fortune by 
play, got some money that did not belong to 
him. The friend whose money it was did not 
prosecute him, and my mother always wanted 
to pay it back, and left the duty to me.” 

“ If, for instance, your father had given his 


358 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


note for a gambling debt to some one he played 
with, I should not think you did right to recog- 
nize it or to pay it. The transaction would be 
wrong from the start.” 

I think I am wrong to go so far as I have 
about this, and let you know so bad a fact 
about poor father, even now that it can not 
harm him,” said Doro. 

“ You have not said any thing more than I 
knew must be true,” said Jonas; “it is im- 
possible to be a gamester and an honest man. 
Gaming destroys the sense of honesty. So 
famous and learned a man as Charles James 
Fox could be so degraded by gambling that he 
absolutely stole the money given him by one 
friend to pay a debt to another. Robbery and 
suicide are the natural outcome of gambling. 
You should feel thankful that your father did 
not put an end to his own life as final act in 
the tragedy of his ruin. There is a book called 
‘ Lacon,’ a learned book, written by one whose 
wisdom could not keep him from gaming. 
Speaking of suicide as the probable end of a 
gambler, he says he is ‘ thus doubly ruined ; he 
adds his soul to every other loss, and re- 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE, 359 

nounces, by the act of suicide, earth to forfeit 
heaven.’ And yet that very writer blew out 
his own brains. No doubt you are right : and 
by bearing the burden of this debt, that would 
not have been incurred but for your father’s 
unhappy passion for play, you may keep before 
Whim’s eyes the long disastrous consequences 
of that vice. Any thing to assure the boy’s 
safety.” 

Doro had sometimes heard her father say 
that he felt sure that it would turn out that 
Whim’s great-uncle Whymper had not died 
penniless, and that there would be a fortune 
for Whim. She had considered this one of her 
father’s wild speculations about money, and in 
fact had no great desire that Whim should 
have any funds but those that he earned. 
Money too easily come by might make him 
extravagant and less industrious. Money for 
herself had never entered into Doro’s wildest 
imaginations. But it is the unexpected that 
happens. Doro found herself to some extent 
an heiress. She received a letter from Eng- 
land saying that her deceased great-uncle had 
left a sum of money which was to be paid to 


36 o 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


her when it had reached the amount of 
By the time such increase had been made he 
had hoped Doro would be of age to manage it 
judiciously for herself. Six years had passed 
since his death ; the money had reached ;£8oo, 
and Doro was over eighteen. It was to come 
into her entire possession, and the executor 
was prepared to pay her ^4000. Doro thought 
sh^ must be dreaming or driven out of her 
mind by much embroidering of cat-tails, pea- 
cock’s-feathers, storks, spider-webs, and other 
aesthetic ornaments. However, the fortune was 
an established fact. She and Whim sat down 
to talk over their affairs. 

“ Now we will pay the money to Robert 
Archer,” said Doro. 

“ It will take exactly twenty-five hundred for 
that,” said Whim, figuring away on a slip of 
paper. 

“ And, Whim, as soon as this year closes 
you shall go to Germany for two years. I will 
put aside one thousand dollars for the two 
years. That must take you and bring you 
back, pay all your expenses — board, clothes, 
tuition, music. You will need to economize, 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE. 


361 


Whim, and not spend a penny carelessly. But 
I consulted with the Director and with our 
minister, and they both say you can make 
that do.” 

“ Now, Doro,” said Whim, dropping his ■ 
pencil, “ I should be pleased to know what 
you mean to have for yourself.” 

“ Why, ril have the other five hundred 
dollars ; and, yes, there is the bank money and 
the wax and this old furniture. I’ll have as 
much as a thousand dollars. I shall sell the 
show and board in a private family and support 
myself by my embroidery.” 

There will be Maggie and the old lady,” 
suggested Whim. 

“ There will be time enough to try and ar- 
range for them. The first thing will be to 
write to Philadelphia, and inquire for Mr. 
Robert Archer, so our debt can be paid.” 

When Doro heard from Philadelphia she did 
not get the address of Mr. Archer, but was 
told she could obtain it by applying to a certain 
deposit and trust company — the very one 
where she kept Whim’s violin. Going there, 
she found that Mr. Robert Archer was now in 


362 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Boston, at a small private hotel. There she 
went, was shown into a parlor, and told that 
Mr. Archer would be down presently. 

In the dim light of the handsome parlor 
stood Doro, a slender, golden-haired girl, with 
the same look of childish earnestness and inno- 
cence as when she showed her wax. She 
trembled at the very thought of seeing this 
long-time creditor, this wronged friend of her 
father, to whom she must re-open the story of 
disgrace. Poor Doro ! she wanted to run away 
and cry, she felt that she had not a friend near 
her; oh, just to see a familiar face for one 
minute ! The door opened, and, instead of the 
dreaded elderly Mr. Robert Archer, who should 
look in but young Jonas Doro did not give 
him time to look out again ; she ran toward 
him, holding out both her hands. 

Why ! I did not know you were here! ” 

“No.? Well, I only came yesterday morn- 
ing.” 

“ Pm glad you are here,” said Doro, as they 
walked toward the window. “Pm frightened 
nearly to death.” 

“ What about .? ” 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE. 363 

“Oh, I came on some business, some most 
unpleasant business, to see a gentleman named 
Robert Archer, and I am waiting for him. 
Suppose you stay in here for a few minutes, 
just till he comes, you know, to keep me from 
being frightened. Then you can go out.” 

“ By all means,” said young Jonas. 

“ It is sometimes just as hard to do right as 
to do wrong. Now, I feel as if I were going to 
rob Mr. Archer. Why don’t he come down } ” 

“ No doubt he will appear soon. I don’t 
believe he will be very dreadful. Don’t look 
so frightened, Doro.” 

“ But I am. I can’t help it. I wish he’d 
come, and be done with it.” 

“ While he is waiting. I’d like to tell you 
something, Doro.” 

“Yes.* What is it I think I hear him 
coming.” 

“ It might take pretty long. You see, the 
fact is, Doro — ” 

“There! I hear a step — some one at the 
door ; never mind what you were going to tell. 
He is coming. You go, Jonas.” 

A chambermaid looked in and disappeared. 


364 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ The fact is, you'll be quite surprised, Doro.” 

“ Oh, I guess not. All my courage is going ! 
I wish he’d come.” 

“ But, listen to me : it is very important. 
You see, Doro, you must excuse me — but my 
name is not ‘ young Jonas ’ ! ” 

“ Not } Why are you called that, then } ” 

“ I am Jonas’ only relative, and he was fond 
of me, and took to calling me ‘young Jonas’ 
for fun. No one else ever did, except you 
and Whim. You got it from old Jonas, you 
know.” 

“ Dear me ! ” said Doro, snappishly ; “ if I’d 
had a better name, I think I should have been 
called by it if I were in your place. Young 
Jonas is not so handsome a name. I think it 
is cruel and wicked to keep people waiting in 
this way.” 

“But, Doro, ‘young Jonas’ seemed to me 
to sound very beautiful when you called me so, 
and so I did not mind. Shall I tell you what 
my real name is ” 

“You need not trouble yourself,” said Doro, 
crossly, feeling that she had been basely de- 
ceived by young Jonas in the matter of his pat- 


DORO INHERITS A FORTUNE. 365 

ronymic, and ready to heap on him all the 
chagrin she felt at the delaying Mr. Archer. 

“ Are you not at all interested in knowing } ” 
said young Jonas. 

No. Young Jonas does very well for what 
little I see of him. I suppose, now you tell me 
that is not your name, next thing you will tell 
me you have not existed at all, only in my im- 
agination. You are as bad as my wax — young 
Jonas yesterday and somebody else to-day.” 

She looked toward the door, expecting her 
creditor. 

Young Jonas gently took her hand. 

“ Doro, please forgive me ; I never meant to 
deceive you, but — I am Robert Archer.” 

“You Robert Archer !” cried Doro, whirling 
about as if she had been struck. “ What can 
you mean ” • 

“I am the only Robert Archer there is. 
You may have in your mind my father, who 
has been dead ten years. He was a broker 
and lived at No. — Spring Garden Street, Phil- 
adelphia.” 

“Then — you are Robert Archer!” cried 
poor Doro, and her face flushed crimson. This 


366 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


was worse than all. To young Jonas she had 
been debtor all these years ! To young Jonas 
she must tell the hideous story of forgery. 
Evidently, he did not know any thing of it. 
What a humiliation ! She snatched away the 
hand he had taken, she dropped into a huge 
chair, where her slender figure was nearly lost, 
and, bowing her head against the arm of the 
chair, she began to cry bitterly. Young Jonas 
stood the picture of distress. What was the 
matter } Why did Doro cry in this dreadful 
way } What had she come to him for, not 
knowing his true name } He dared not speak 
to her ; he wished he were not Archer. Fin- 
ally, he rolled an ottoman within a respectful 
distance, and began to reason with Niobe. 

“ Whatever is troubling you, Doro, don’t let 
it trouble you more. If you have any thing dis- 
agreeable to tell, don’t tell it. I am getting on 
properly without any news, as far as I can see. 
I should hate nothing so much as to see you 
miserable. I’d rather tell you something — 
that has been in my mind for a long while — 
something that I hope will be pleasant to you. 
Dear little Doro, don’t you guess what it is ? ” 





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“ lie then, unhappily, was her creditor.” Page 366. 





CHAPTER XX. 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 

T the words of young Jonas or Robert 



^ Archer, Doro sprang up as if angry, 
grieved, indignant, and terrified. Her whole 
appearance was so singular, so expressive of 
utter alarm and wretchedness, that Archer felt 
that whatever story he had to tell must die on 
his lips for that time if not forever. Poor Doro 
looked like some gentle creature mercilessly pur- 
sued until all hope of flight was dead, and then 
turning at bay in very self-despair. For his 
life the young man could do nothing but com- 
passionate her and try to make easy, whatever 
hard task fate had assigned her. But he said 
to himself that fate was very cruel, bringing 
some wicked relic of past ages up between 
them — when he and Doro had always been 
such good faithful friends. He re-addressed 
himself to the. task of .encouragement. He 
touched her cold hand — “ Doro, my poor little 


367 


368 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


girl, I really am so distressed to see you so 
miserable. You are putting yourself to misery 
for nothing, I am sure. Let us drop it, what- 
ever it is, and forget all about it, and if Robert 
Archer is not an agreeable name to you, you 
can call me young Jonas to the end of the 
chapter.” 

Doro was making mighty efforts to control 
herself. She was angry and ashamed that she 
had given way in this fashion. She had a duty 
to perform ; how disgraceful to turn from it ! 
She wiped her eyes, pushed the curly yellow 
hair from her forehead, sat up, and said calmly, 
“ There ! I will not be so foolish. Some 
people have these troubles in their lives, and 
ought to have a little courage in bearing them. 
I have something to tell you, since you are Mr. 
Robert Archer. Will you please turn that 
stool round, so as to sit with your back to me } 
I should like it so much better.” 

“Oh, to be so rude,” began young Jonas. 

“ It is not rude to oblige me.” 

Jonas turned the stool obediently. 

“ As much as twelve years ago,” said Doro, 
“ my father met your father on a ship coming 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 369 

from England, and your father gave him a 
place in his office. My poor father might have 
done very well, only that he gamed ; and to get 
money for gambling he — deceived your father. 
At last — oh, dear! he took advantage of his 
position and forged your father’s name to a 
check of two thousand dollars ; he lost it all, and 
— ran away. Your father was very kind. My 
mother went to him and he pitied her, left 
alone in a strange land with two little children. 
She promised to try and pay back the whole 
some day, as soon as she could. Your father 
^did not pursue my father. My mother came 
here and found him. She did not forget her 
promise. It was the wish of her life to pay 
back that money, and free our name from that 
disgrace, as far as paying back could do it. 
She told me about it when she was dying, and 
I have tried ever since to save up the money, 
and Whim has helped. Whim feels just as I 
do. I don’t know as I ever should have got 
the amount — not till I was old and gray- 
headed, at least ; but my great-uncle left me 
some money, and now I have got plenty to pay 
the whole amount. We have calculated it up. 


3;o 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Whim and 1. It is just twenty-five hundred 
dollars, and I have it in this check. You can’t 
tell how glad I am to pay it. It seemed some- 
how more terrible to find you were Mr. Robert 
Archer than if he had been some strange old 
man ; and, then, I would have been glad to see 
the very one, and let him know my dear good 
mother had kept her promise. Perhaps he’ll 
know in heaven. I hope so. There it is.” 

She had risen as she finished. The as- 
tounded ‘‘young Jonas” did not dare to turn 
his head until he received permission. She 
dropped a long brown envelope over his 
shoulder, and passing from him rapidly fled the 
room. He jumped up as the door swung 
behind her, ran and looked into the hall ; she 
had vanished. He went back to the parlor, 
stepped to the window-balcony, and looked into 
the street ; the golden-haired heroine was lost 
in the crowd of less steadfast souls that surged 
along the thoroughfare. He picked up the 
brown envelope and opened it. There was the 
check for twenty-five hundred dollars, and a 
form of receipt that the Robert Archer was to 
sign, and which Doro had forgotten in the 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 37 1 

transformation of her friend, young Jonas, into 
her father’s long-time creditor. Young Jonas 
dropped into the big chair where Doro had told 
her tale. The room seemed yet to echo the 
low, silver, sorrowful tones in which she had 
rehearsed her father’s crime. He heard the 
dead mother’s woe and hope and honesty and 
strong endeavor in this girl’s voice. What a 
pitiful heritage that had been, the story of a 
deep disgrace, and the burden of a debt that it 
seemed would take a life-time to lift ! What 
an unconquerable spirit this was ! What en- 
ergy and self-sacrifice in this golden-haired 
little girl, just as faithful and honest in all the 
affairs of life as she had been in showing her 
wax. Young Jonas, otherwise Robert Archer, 
relieved his mind by saying that “ if Whim 
Granby did not show himself worthy of such 
a first-class sister, he’d let Whim know what he 
was about” — a very indefinite sentence, that 
Whim probably would have been little alarmed 
to hear. Then, there was that check. What- 
ever was he to do with it ? To take it seemed 
like robbing Doro ; and yet he dared not insult 
Doro by hinting at not taking it. Archer’s 


372 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


father had left him a small but sufficient for- 
tune, and he was making his own way in the 
world besides. What an annoyance this check 
was, no doubt almost the whole inheritance of 
Doro ! Evidently he must sign a receipt for it 
in due form, as the first step ; after that — well, 
young Jonas could not tell what should come 
after. He thought he would go and see old 
Jonas. He signed the receipt with his stylo- 
graphic pen, put check and receipt in his note- 
book, and went to 97 Andover Street, cellar. 

Why, lad, you in town .? Glad to see you,” 
said Jonas } “ How is geology } ” 

Geology is progressing,” said young Jonas, 
sitting on a roll of leather. “ How goes all 
above stairs } ” 

First-class. Doro has come into a fortune 
of four thousand dollars. She is very happy, 
for it enables her to pay a debt. She came in 
early this morning, said she was going out to 
get her debt paid, and I was to come to dinner 
by way of celebration. I’ll take you with me.” 

“ Perhaps she will object.” 

“ What nonsense. She is always glad to see 
you. I’ll go up and tell her now that you are 
here.” 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 373 

He went up and returned crest-fallen. 

“You were right. Has there been any 
trouble between you } When I mentioned I 
would bring you along, she spoke out as cross 
as could be, ‘ I don’t want to see him.’ I hope 
her fortune has not spoiled her. Fortune does 
spoil some people.” 

“ Nothing will spoil Doro,” said young 
Jonas. “ Besides, if she only keeps a few hun- 
dred, there won’t be money enough to hurt 
her. I don’t mind whether she wants me or 
not; I am going up to dinner with you.” 

“ He would come,” said old Jonas, apolo- 
getically. 

“ It was all a mistake your not wanting to 
give me my dinner,” said young Jonas; “be- 
sides, I have brought you a stylographic pen 
for a present, and a bit of paper to show how 
well it writes.” He handed her the pen and 
the receipt, and so peace was concluded with 
young Jonas. Doro was somewhat disturbed 
as to what to call him, but the name “Archer” 
was too distressing; “young Jonas” did not 
belong to him. She concluded it would make 
no difference. She should not see him often, 


374 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


and it was not needful to call him any thing. 
Whim came in by the time dinner was on the 
table. He was full of excitement over the 
commencement exercises and over the pieces 
he was to play. Beethoven’s symphony for 
violin and piano was to be a great feature of 
the occasion, and Whim and his German friend 
were to play it together. His friend was going 
back to Germany and Whim could go in his 
company, and the Director had found just the 
right place for Whim to stay. 

“ But that is not all, Doro. You are to 
go, too.” 

Whim gave this news with a shout of joy. 

“ I O Whim ! that is all nonsense. I 
couldn’t go. I can support myself here ; I 
couldn’t there. I am not a genius. Why 
should I go to Germany } ” 

“ Because I couldn’t get on without you, 
little mother Doro, and I’ve got up just the 
greatest scheme : it is fairly immense. My 
friend had a letter from his aunt, saying she 
wants a governess for her three little girls 
under ten, to teach them English and sewing 
and embroidery. She wants one who speaks 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 375 

English altogether, and to have history, writ- 
ing, and reading in English. The pay isn’t 
very great, but there’s the home and it is 
enough to live on, and we’ll see each other 
every day. You’ll go, won’t you, Doro.? We 
arranged it, and, if you say you’ll go, he will 
telegraph to his aunt this afternoon.” 

Of course you’ll go,” said old Jonas, 
positively. 

By all means,” said young Jonas, much 
less positively. 

And who thinks any thing of me ! ” cried 
Maggie. 

“ We’ll attend to your case, old lady,” said 
Whim, graciously. 

What, not be parted from her dearest Whim ; 
cross the seas with Whim and see him every 
day ! The morning tears were caught by the 
afternoon sun of joy, and made a rainbow in 
Doro’s sky. 

‘‘You had better not go,” said Maggie to 
Doro. It is enough to let Whim get drowned 
without risking yourself. The ocean is two 
thousand miles across ; who ever heard of going 
that far without getting wrecked ? If he goes 


376 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


you’ll never see him again, and it will be the 
same with you if you go. Why can’t you stay 
here and let every thing go as it has } ” 

I think Whim needs me, Maggie, and, then, 
I can not very well afford to keep up the home 
here when Whim has gone. I am offered a 
chance to make my living elsewhere.” 

“ Now, that’s just the way,” said Maggie, 
coolly. “ Some folks never think only of them- 
selves and their brothers. What Whim needs 
and what you ought to do is the only thing in 
your mind. Why don’t you think of me } It 
don’t suit me to have to move. I’m used to 
having my own way here, and I can’t live with 
folks that want theirs. I have got used to my 
own room here, and it is too much trouble to 
have to pack up a trunk and all that. Why 
are you so selfish ? ” 

“ Dear me ! ” cried the hymn-seller, admir- 
ingly, “ now I see a special providence in this 
chance for you. Who would ever have planned 
out such a beautiful way of keeping you and 
your brother together ? This is the Lord’s 
doing, and it is wonderful in our eyes ; ‘ Commit 
thy way unto the Lord, and he shall bring it to 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 37/ 

pass.’ ‘Thine ears shall hear a word behind 
thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it.’ 
Dear ! dear ! how beautiful is the fulfilling of 
the promises. I just revel in the words of that 
hymn : 

“ ‘ His providence shall ripen fast. 

Unfolding every hour; 

The bud may have a bitter taste. 

But sweet shall be the flower.’ 

When I contemplate how well the Lord plans 
things, and how notably he brings out every 
thing of which we see the end in this world so 
that we have to stand still and admire his 
ways ; then I feel sure that when we get to 
glory we shall be just as well satisfied with the 
things we don’t see the end of in this world 
but find it in heaven. There was a time when 
I felt it mighty hard to lose all my family, one 
after the other, and be left alone like a leafless, 
dead tree, where no birds make their nests ; 
but you can’t tell the comfort I take now, med- 
itating on how happy and blessed they are. 
When I hear of people that have riches, honor, 
happiness in this world, I say, ‘ My children 
have got as much as that ten times over, in the 
good world where they are gone to wait for 


378 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


me.’ When I think of my good man, I con- 
sider he got home a little before me, and he’ll 
know all is ready and will be glad to see me 
coming in to go no more out. Just so I shall 
take a heap of satisfaction thinking of you and 
Whim in foreign countries, improving your- 
selves and enjoying yourselves, and doing good 
to somebody, I do hope and trust.” 

“ How very different Maggie and our old 
hymn-seller are,” said Doro to Jonas. “My 
closing up here will make just as much differ- 
ence to one as the other; I suppose it has been 
a great thing for the old lady to have her board 
for nearly two years. No doubt these differ- 
ences are constitutional.” 

Jonas laughed at Doro’s philosophizing. 
“ Then it is religious constitution you mean. 
The difference lies there, not in the physical. 
The one lives in herself, the other out of her- 
self. Maggie is her own first idea ; the old 
lady has learned, as Shakespeare says, to ‘ love 
thyself last.’ She would find her rule, not in 
Shakespeare, but in her old brown Bible : ‘ Seek 
not every man his own, but every man an- 
other’s good.’ ” 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 379 

** Still, Maggie has been very faithful to us 
for many years, and it will be hard for her to 
suit herself or other people. I must look out 
for Maggie.” 

*‘You had better go and see your Miss Har- 
rison. It is a good act to help that young lady 
to think for other people,” said Jonas. “She 
is naturally generous and kind, and has been 
shut in in herself and her own pleasures. 
Maggie’s life is like a little plot of ground 
enclosed in a high board fence that shuts 
every thing out, and the narrow space in. 
Now, if the life is contracted and shut in, I 
don’t know as it makes much difference 
whether the enclosure is a high rough fence 
of common hard wood, or a splendid high wall, 
costing two hundred dollars a foot, as we say 
of fashions and pleasures, so the life is shut in 
to itself and out from other people. You’d 
better go and try and open a gate in the en- 
closure of Miss Harrison’s life ; give her a 
chance to think of and for others.” 

Doro had never intruded on Miss Harrison’s 
splendid home ; it had never occurred to Miss 
Harrison to invite the inhabitant of 97 Ando- 


38 o 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


ver Street to Commonwealth Avenue ; but 
when Doro ventured there Miss Harrison 
gave her a warm welcome, took her up to her 
own room, and was pleased to see how Doro 
admired all her luxurious surroundings. 

“ Do let me give you something ! ” cried 
Miss Harrison. “ What will you have I 
declare I’m crowded here with things I don’t 
need, and hardly have room for. Will you 
have a ring, a pin, a bracelet ? ” 

“ Oh, no, thank you. Miss Harrison : they 
would not suit me. I never wear jewelry.” 

“So! Well, a bottle of cologne, a picture, 
this glass set ? I must give you something to 
remember me by. Oh, I see just the thing. 
Here is a gold thimble — a little small for me 
and just the size for you ; and my initial, D, is 
just the same as yours. How lucky I Now, 
never forget me.” 

“ I could not ; you have been so very kind to 
me.” 

“ What, really ! Have I I did not know 
it. I am so glad. And you are going to 
Munich for two whole years. What a chance 
for you ! My sister and I were in Germany 


WHEAT ALL THIMGS SUFFER CHANGE. 38 1 

for two years. I don’t know as we learned 
much, we were so set on amusing ourselves ; 
and, then, we were so changeable. We went at 
painting vigorously for a few lessons, and then 
by degrees we dropped it and concluded music 
must be our pursuit. But the masters wanted 
such wearisome practice that we almost 
dropped the music — made papa very angry 
too, and then we concluded to be fine lin- 
guists ; so we began on French and Italian, 
and we' resolved always to speak in German. 
But there ! in no time we were in all the amuse- 
ments of the American colony, and talking 
English all the time, and the Germans were 
very ready to talk English with us, for they are 
anxious to learn. Really, we wasted Munich. 
You won’t, for you are so industrious, and 
make it a principle to use time well. Learn- 
ing, after all, depends more on ourselves than 
on opportunities ; if we are bent on learning 
we make opportunities. If you’ll take my ad- 
vice, you’ll choose one line of study, and follow 
it all the time you are abroad. Then when you 
come home you will really know something. 
Are you a genius in music or painting.?” 


382 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


No, I am not,” said Doro. “ I’m not a 
genius in any thing.” 

“ My father would say industry was more 
valuable than genius. Unluckily I have nei- 
ther. As you are not a genius you had better 
devote yourself to German, and perhaps 
French. All they require is unlimited dig. 
When you come back you can get a place as 
governess to young children, if you speak 
French and German. I could get you such a 
place, at a good salary.” 

“Thank you,” said Doro ; “ I shall take your 
advice and study two languages faithfully.” 

“ Some one has said that getting an addi- 
tional language is like getting an additional 
soul. I forget who said it. I have a genius 
for forgetting. Then, too, I think one soul is 
a terrible responsibility. I don’t know as it 
would be an advantage to have more. What 
are you going to do with that queer fat old 
woman, who sticks out her teeth and glares after 
she has said any thing particular } ” 

“ I came up to ask you about them — I mean 
Maggie and the hymn-seller. I want to ar- 
range something for them.” 


WHEN ALL THINGS SUFFER CHANGE. 383 

“That dear little old mite that is always 
quoting hymns ? Do you know, I fairly envy 
her. She seems so cheerful ; she is so grateful 
and so thankful always ! ” 

“Do you remember,” said Doro, “what our 
minister said last Sunday about the two great 
chief sins of humanity ? ” 

“No, really, I don’t. Only two! I should 
think, now, if there were only two we might by 
some means get the better of them, and be 
very fairly good humanity. Two, did you say, 
Doro.^ I should really suppose two hundred or 
two thousand, and yet you always pay such 
good attention in church.” 

“I had need,” said Doro. “You have every 
thing about you in books, friends, home, par- 
ents, teachers, learning, to keep you good ; and 
I have had only my Bible and my church, and 
you will not wonder that every word said there 
seemed to me like precious gold.” 

“ You dear child I in spite of my advantages, 
you are no end better than I am,” said Miss 
Harrison, frankly. “But how could the man 
have mentioned only two sins ? Come, you 
must explain the statement.” 


384 


m BLACK AND GOLD. 


“ I suppose it was something like the ques- 
tions they give us in school-examinations,” said 
Doro, “ only three or four questions on history 
or geography, for instance, yet those questions 
spread out so wide that they cover the whole 
field; as in French history: ‘Describe the rise 
and fall of Capetian kings, and give their names 
and the chief events of their reigns.’ ” 

“ Oh, you funny creature,” said Miss Har- 
rison ; “what good company you are! Some 
rich old dame ought to give you a thousand a 
year just for making sensible conversation 
agreeable to her. But now you are meander- 
ing over the ground, and getting away from the 
sermon, and never telling me what those exten- 
sive sins — crying, great sins of our fallen hu- 
manity — are.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


A FIRST VIOLIN. 

T~AORO’S face grew graver at Miss Harri- 
son’s insistence. She supposed the young 
lady had been joking, and remembered the ser- 
mon quite well Evidently, the lively creature 
was as little given to applying her mind in 
church as at home or abroad, so Doro must 
rehearse the neglected lesson. “ Why, Miss 
Harrison, he said that the crying sins of hu- 
manity were ingratitude and unbelief, and that 
the Bible seemed to have in view our liability 
to these, because it warned us so much against 
them, and enjoined so often that we should ‘be 
thankful’ — give thanks continually, trust in 
the Lord, and so on.” 

“Oh, yes!” cried Miss Harrison, “now I do 
remember I heard that. I said to my grand- 
mother when we came home, that at least I 
must be trustful, because I seldom worried over 
any thing ; and she said to me, ‘ Dear child, 
3«5 


386 IN BLACK AND GOLD. 

there is avast differenee between trusting 2iX\^ 
drifting' Your little old woman, however, cer- 
tainly trusts. Now, let us see what we can do 
for them both. I remember Maggie told me 
she wanted, of all things, to get in charge of 
the ‘Animals’ Home.’ I believe they have a 
person there they are suited with. But I went 
yesterday to buy a bird of a little old man who 
keeps birds, fowls, guinea-pigs, dogs, all kinds 
of animals. We have known him for years, 
and he told me yesterday that his sister, who 
had lived with him and helped him take care of 
his animals, had gone to live with a daughter, 
and he could not find a housekeeper to suiL 
him. Suppose we drive there, and see if Mag- 
gie would suit him, and the place would suit 
her.?” 

“ I believe it would be the very thing.” 

“ How much does your old woman need to 
live on .? ” 

“ The attic .? She said once she thought a 
person was as rich as she ought to be, with five 
dollars a week.” 

“ The idea ! I believe I spend that in flowers 
and candy.” 


A FIRST VIOLIN-. 


38; 


“ She talks so nicely on religion, she would 
make a good Bible-woman, if she had tracts, 
and so on, to take round with her hymns, and 
could visit the sick and poor. She is very 
handy with the sick. I think she would do a 
great deal of good if she could take her own 
way with people. Jonas calls her the peripa- 
tetic Bible and the circulating temperance soci- 
ety. She always has a few pledge cards in her 
pocket, and a supply of temperance tracts and 
songs. She has reformed half a dozen drinking 
women and keeps up a little band of street 
Arabs that she means to make temperance men 
of. And, do you know, she fairly made one 
grog-seller quit his business. She talks of 
what she has seen.” 

“Dear me!” cried Miss Harrison, “how 
ashamed of myself that makes me. Why ! I 
have even offered wine to people I But I never 
will again ! She puts me to the blush with her 
colportage I ” 

“ I should like to engage her and send her 
about at just such work. It would relieve my 
mind and quiet my conscience : it would be 
being good by proxy, you see.” 


388 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


Doro lifted her earnest eyes. “ Is that 
possible } ” 

“ Well, I suppose, primarily, we must be 
good in our own right ; then, if we set others 
in good work we double our powers. I will 
see if my sister and grandmother, or mother, 
will join me in supporting this little woman as 
a missionary among the poor. Two dollars a 
week each for the three of us would be very 
little for us, and it seems enough for her. No 
doubt they will be quite willing ; they take 
to doing good much more readily than I do. 
I am often quite ashamed of myself. I picked 
up my ‘ Daily Food ’ this morning, and I read 
this text : ‘ Why stand ye here all the day 
idle If I read it again, it will be some 
comfort to think, if I am idling myself. I’ve got 
a Bible-woman started. What is to become of 
your wax } ” 

Jonas thinks he can rent it to one of the 
museums or shows until the time comes when 
he can sell it.” 

Don’t you feel as if you were losing real 
live friends, you have been so busy with those 
figures ? ” 


A FII^ST VIOLIN. 


339 


“ Why, I do find myself speaking, thinking, 
dreaming of them, as if they were true persons, 
and yet the more I have had to do with real 
folks, the more dreadfully wax the show has 
seemed.” 

“ I wonder,” said Miss Harrison, medita- 
tively, “whether there are not some people 
whose lives are amounting to no more than 
the existence of the wax-work — persons who 
live just to dress and to stare and be stared at, 
generally by gas-light ^ ” 

Maggie secured her place with the bird- 
seller. There was danger at first that the ani- 
mals, especially the prettiest ones, would die 
of over-feeding. Customers also received curi- 
ous names for the live-stock, for it was against 
Maggie’s principles to remember a name ex- 
actly or pronounce like other people : aside 
from some of these little discrepancies, she was 
the right woman in the right place. 

But the little hymn-seller was yet more the 
right woman in the right place, going day by 
day to the homes of ignorance, poverty, and 
suffering. She had rich treasures of experi- 
ence in suffering herself. She had fought the 


390 


IN BLACK AND GOLD, 


wolf penury with one hand, while she nursed 
the sick with the other ; she had gone down to 
the river of death with those whom she loved ; 
she had passed again and again through the 
bitter valley of the shadow, and she had found 
true consolation in the rod and the staff of her 
watching Shepherd. So now, hopeful and 
brisk, tender to misery and forgiving to sin, 
while faithful in warning and guiding back the 
sinner, this little old woman spent her days in 
gleaning in the hidden, desolate corners of the 
world’s great field. 

A poor, plain, humble, uneducated woman : 
uneducated save in that great and eternal 
wisdom gathered from the Book of God — with 
that Book she went into the dark places of the 
earth, and through the night of human sorrow, 
and that Word was a light and a lamp to souls. 
Of her, in her unheralded and lowly station, the 
poet’s words were true : — 

“ Honor to those whose words or deeds 
Thus help us in our daily needs, 

And by their overflow 
Raise us from what is low ! 

“ So in the house of misery 
A lady with a lamp I see, 


A FIRST VIOLIN-. 


391 


, Pass through the glimmering gloom 

And flit from room to room. 

“ Not even shall be wanting here 
The palm, the lily, and the spear, 

The symbols that of yore 
Saint Philomena bore.” 

A lady, if simplicity and self-forgetting, if 
charity and faith and love to God and compas- 
sion to humanity, can make a lady ! At heart, 
a daughter of a King and heir of heaven. 

Meanwhile, Doro and Whim had crossed the 
sea and were in a strange land. Perhaps, if 
Doro had not gone with him. Whim might by 
degrees have drifted into the ways of many stu- 
dents around about him, and have forgotten the 
faithful, all-day keeping of the Sabbath, and 
the frequenting of the house of prayer ; he 
might have fallen into habits of beer and wine 
drinking, that, to his nervous temperament and 
delicate organization, would have been more 
swiftly disastrous than to the phlegmatic Ger- 
mans about him, whose steady industry and 
surprising musical skill moved happily his 
emulation. But when Doro was by him, Whim 
could not forget the disasters that had accom- 


392 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


panicd his departure from her counsels : . he 
could not forget that terrible night when he 
took refuge in the porch of Trinity Church, and 
felt that his sins had separated him from Doro, 
and bethought him how sins widen between 
tenderest hearts great impassable chasms, 
until, at last between lies that great gulf as 
between heaven and hell, over which it is 
impossible for any to pass forever more. 
'There are some natures in which rightness is 
a thing of slow growth, of long habit — to say 
nothing of being “strong,” it takes a great 
while to make them men in any fashion. They 
are easily moved, moral children, needing ever 
the warning voice, the watchful eye, the re- 
straining hand, and at last, after long patience, 
they may grow to a moral manhood, and per- 
haps, after a still longer period, acquire spiritual 
strength. These are the temperaments where 
the law of God is weak through the flesh. 

No vices are more matters of heredity than 
drunkenness and gambling ; none more obscure 
moral sense, more enfeeble the will and whet 
passion. How fatal, then, is the error of one 
who introduces these evils to a family line ! — 


A FIRST VIOLIN. 


393 


sins of the fathers to be visited on the children 
to the third and fourth, or even the seventh, 
generation ; they are the leprosy and scrofula 
of moral blood. 

Knowing, then, such dangerous tendencies in 
her brother, what was Doro’s joy to see each 
day or month some steady progress' toward 
strength and rightness — to see him measuring 
his life by divine law, to see the love of God 
and the desire to walk wo.rthily day by day 
strengthened. This was the recompense of her 
long care. 

As Whim’s studies drew to their close, as 
far as his masters were concerned, and he was 
ready to use what he had learned, he felt a 
strong desire to fill, for a time at least, the 
very place filled by his grandfather and uncle. 
He said to Doro : I want to play the same 
violin in the same orchestra for a time at least. 
I can not help feeling that they looked forward 
to that, and wished for that, when they left me 
the violin.” 

He wrote to the leader of this orchestra, ask- 
ing for an engagement as first violin if he 
should be found competent. He had devoted 


394 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


himself vigorously to the music of the great 
oratorios, and with them he wished to be occu- 
pied, under a masterly leader. For a long 
time he had no answer; then a letter came 

saying that Herr had gone to the United 

States for a year, and Whim might perhaps see 
him there when he reached America. 

The two years had ended, and Whim and 
Doro were going back to Boston. The last 
letter they received in Munich requested Whim 
to play at a great concert which would be given 
soon after his return home. 

That concert was the only time when Whim 
felt alarmed at appearing before an audience. 
He knew that before him were many who had 
known him, and had heard him several years 
before ; his former teachers and fellow-pupils 
would be judging of his use of European advan- 
tages. Would he fulfil their expectations and 
fair prophecies, or disappoint them } Besides, 
this was the largest audience he had ever faced 
— ; some four thousand people. And there was 
Doro ; he must justify all Doro’s care, and he 
must not be unworthy of the wonderful violin 
that had come out of its sleep in the Safe Com- 


A FIRST VIOLIM. 


395 


pany’s vault, and seemed to Whim to have a 
soul of its ov/n dormant in it, ready to wake 
and stir the chords of human joy and sorrow. 

“ I hope I shall not disappoint you,” said 
Whim to the Director ; “ I know you expect 
something of me.” 

“I think you will not disappoint us,” said 
the Director. “To produce real, noble music 
one must have, first, natural genius ; second, 
exhaustive knowledge, acquired by faithful 
study ; and, third, moral rightness in himself, 
to give soul to his music; the lofty thought of 
the musician must lie behind the sound he pro- 
duces, if it is to go home to the hearer’s heart. 
Every true artist should be an apostle of the 
true.” 

Whim trod trembling the first steps to the 
platform where he was to give his violin solo, 
but with the last step he came face to face 
with the statue of Beethoven. Enthusiasm for 
the great master filled him, he forgot his audi- 
ence, and played as if for the ear long dull to 
the harmonies of earth. He was rewarded and 
recalled by rapturous applause. He looked 
about for Doro ; he knew this would please 


39 ^ IN BLACK AND GOLD, 

Doro, but his eye fell on a little German in a 
front seat, who listened in a state of ecstasy. 
Whim played from that minute to the German ; 
he had never seen him before, did not know 
whether he practised or understood music, but 
evidently he could feel music, and, abandoning 
the rest of the multitude. Whim played a com- 
position of his own to the German. He played 
the story of his life — his childhood’s mirth, his 
early dreams, his youth’s wild fantasies, his 
sister’s devotion, his wandering, his despair, 
repentance, ambition, gratitude, hope — the 
last notes died softly, and there was a shower 
of flowers upon the stage. The young musi- 
cian turned away, the enthusiastic German in 
the front seat sprang upon the platform to meet 
him, and, with foreign abandon, clasped him in 

his arms. It was Herr , and Whim went 

down the steps, having attained the acme of his 
wishes — he would hold his grandfather’s place 
as a First Violin. From the last steps he 
looked about the audience. Far off in the gal- 
lery he saw old Maggie in the gayest of bon- 
nets, standing up so she could see better, her 
hands on her hips, her two teeth fixed over her 


A FIRST VIOLIM, 


39; 


upper lip, in her shoulders stolid defiance of 
the people who wished to make her sit down. 

Beside Maggie, occupying very little and 
unobtrusive space, in her great joy plentifully 
saturating a handkerchief brought for the occa- 
sion, was the hymn-seller. Probably each per- 
son interprets music to his own soul according 
to what is in his soul. The hymn-seller’s 
hopes and heart were set on that land of light 
where her beloved had gone before her, and as 
she listened to Whim’s music, she thought she 
heard the sound of celestial harpers harping 
with their harps,” and the voices that long ago 
had made melody in her ears, mingling now in 
the songs of heaven. 

Down in' the audience, in the body of the 
house, was Jonas, in a new suit, very compla- 
cent, having just convinced himself that he had 
prophesied this success all along. Not far from 
old Jonas, young Jonas, and also Doro, whose 
attention was absorbed by her brother and his 
music. Doro felt so proud of Whim ! and she 
wondered if it could be that her great-uncle and 
the grandfather and her mother could know 
that out of the fires of temptation, and from the 


398 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


snares and pitfalls among which he had stum- 
bled, the boy had come at last safe, by God’s 
grace, from that deadly and besetting sin. 

From the best box Miss Harrison flung 
Whim a bouquet of white roses and helio- 
trope. Miss Harrison was pleased to patronize 
a success and to recognize in the successful a 
protegee. Besides, she was a kind girl, and she 
realized what a relief and joy it was to Doro 
that Whim had now, at nineteen, made an hon- 
orable place for himself. Except for Miss Har- 
rison, all the people that Whim knew were very 
plain and common people — only the Director 
and the minister. The minister was almost the 
first to shake Whim’s hand and congratulate 
him. 

“Your calling,” said Whim, “is so noble 
and great that I did not know if you would 
think a little success in music a subject for 
congratulation.” 

“ With all talents,” said the minister, “ we 
may serve at the altar of our God. David’s 
tongue was his glory, and he used it with his. 
harp to utter the high praises of the Lord. 
Art will be your glory as long as you do not 


A F/J^ST VIOLIN. 


399 


debase art to be the minister of sin. Do you 
know what a potent instrument you have in 
music ? ” 

“Who does realize it asked the Director. 
“Music exalts the fervor of the worshipper, 
renews the ardor of the patriot ; soothes the 
pain of the sufferer ; hushes the child to sleep ; 
is freighted with memories of home to the 
exile ; sickens to the death the wandering 
Swiss who hears the herd-song of his hills ; 
excites to fury the warrior ; drives the reveller 
to a frenzy that may be his death. How great 
his power who goes through the world using so 
mighty an instrument only for the glory of God 
and the good of men.” 

Then away from the crowd who had ap- 
plauded him went Whim, proud and happy, 
with his sister on his arm. It is true, Doro 
and Whim, and all their surroundings and be- 
longings, and the few who knew and loved 
them, were all very humble and simple, and, 
after all, it is nothing much to be a First 
Violin. But, then, all these people had some- 
thing to do in the world, and they did it hon- 
estly and faithfully, trying to make daily less 


400 


IN BLACK AND GOLD. 


the great burden of the earth’s sorrow and its 
sin. 

“And now, Whim,” said Robert Archer, as 
they sat about the tea-table, “ arc you going 
about playing in oratorios 1 ” 

“ For a time, perhaps,” said Whim. “But I 
hope to settle down after a while in one city, 
here perhaps, and pursue my music, playing, 
composing, teaching, doing the best I can 
with it.” 

“Well, my boy,” said Robert, “you can not 
carry Doro about in your wandering life any 
longer, for she and I have just made a little 
contract to set up a home, which we hope will 
be for you the central point of attraction in all 
the world — the home of your heart and the 
home of all the hours you can spend in it.” 

Whim stoutly resisted a furious impulse 
toward jealousy. He looked at Doro’s rosy 
face — remembered all she had been, and said, 
valiantly, “You have got a girl. Archer, who 
was as good a daughter, and the very best 
sister that ever was in the world. So let us 
shake hands all around over it.” 











